A legendary Quest:Tales of the Dragonborn
by mrsmiawallace88
Summary: A Nord woman, born in times of peace. Little did she know what fate lay ahead. No matter what happened before...her life would never be the same again. Prequel to: A legendary Quest!
1. Chapter 1

Prequel to "A legendary Quest" It doesn't matter if you start reading this one first, but I advise you to read the original story before this one!

No matter how you decide—I hope you have fun!

* * *

_**Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them? ~Rose Kennedy~**_

* * *

**Markath  
10****th**** of Heartfire, 4E 176**

A gust of heavy wind tugged mercilessly at his armor, while the smell of smoke and ash hung heavily in the air and burnt in his lungs. Lokir wiped sweat off his forehead, while his gaze was fixed upon the burning city of stone.

"Markath will soon be ours again! It is only a matter of time until Ulfric arrives," Arik, a young Nord with shoulder-length red hair smiled triumphantly at his elder companion.

"No matter what will happen next—it's way too quiet inside the city. Where are all the women and children? I couldn't hear a single scream by now. They must be terrified by the flying missiles and yet—nothing. It is as if they knew we were coming and fled beforehand. I don't trust that silence, Arik," Lokir mumbled and lowered down in a patch of grass behind a boulder, taking a sip from his water-skin.

Though he knew he shouldn't waste any of his water supplies, but he couldn't help it. He simply poured a bit of the cold liquid over his head, enjoying the refreshing effect it had on his dirt-covered skin. His long, black hair clung to his head while he rubbed over his dark bearded cheek.

"This is your first time in a battle, right?" Lokir said and cast a glance at the younger Nord. He could see that, despite the determination that radiated around him, that Arik was shivering of fear. He could not blame that laddie. Lokir himself was a warrior who had fought in the Great War just five years ago and even _he_ felt more than uneasy in that rough terrain of the Reach.

The clopping of hooves suddenly waved through the air, echoing from the rock-faces all around. The small group of soldiers, led by Lokir, got up and gazed into the distance. Relieved smiles showed up on their faces as they finally saw the militia approaching over the stone-bridge that was spanning the river.

"General, it is good to see you here!" Lokir stepped towards the man who was riding at the front of the militia. His long, dark-blonde hair was waving in the wind as he stopped his horse.

"What news from inside?" Ulfric asked and dismounted the stallion. His heavy boots gave a thud on the ground while his pale, green eyes searched for any sign of an intruder.

Lokir stepped towards him. "Nothing, so far. We let a rain of burning missiles go down on them, but no sign of any being behind those gates. If I may say—we should still wait a while longer for reinforcements."

"No! Jarl Igmund relies on me! We will crash down those gates and take what's ours!" he turned on his heels and pulled his longsword out of its sheath.

'_So young—how could Jarl Igmund rely on such a young and inexperienced man? Man! Barely twenty years old!'_ Lokir thought grimly but kept silent. He knew, as young as Ulfric Stormcloak may be—that man would never accept a 'no'.

Ulfric turned to cast a glance at his men. He raised his sword and called, "This day we will fight for Talos! We'll bring down every Reachman who had spilled blood of one of us! We are the Nords of Skyrim and these—bastards don't deserve to live on the same earth as we do! Don't show mercy for they won't show mercy on you!"

"_Huzzah!"_ the soldiers yelled proudly and loudly, swords and axes glinted in the sun as they raised them up into the air.

"There is one thing about this city we have to keep in mind. It's vertical—the streets are cliffs," he added.

"And what does that mean for us?" Arik asked and blushed heavily under Ulfric's stare, even if they were just about the same age.

"It means you have to be careful or else you'll fall to death!" the general replied and signaled Lokir to follow him.  
The troops approached the front gate of the city. "Tear this gate down!" Ulfric commanded and signaled his men to bring the battering ram. With each blow of the heavy ram, the iron doors creaked and cracked more and more until it finally burst open with a loud bang.

Black smoke drifted through the streets as they carefully entered the city. The market place was dead silent. Just like Lokir had mentioned earlier, it was _too_ silent.

Suddenly, out of the shadows, a group of at least ten Reachmen charged at them. Lokir reacted quickly, his sword clanged against another one. He roared as he spun around and swung his sword sideways at another approaching enemy. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Arik deflecting a blow with his shield. A man charged at Lokir from behind, caught him quite off guard. He lost his footing and stumbled backwards. A fist hit him right in his face and his mouth was immediately flooded by his own blood.

He coughed and spit some blood on the ground, the taste of iron was bitter on his tongue. He staggered back up on his feet; the sounds of the battle barely reached his ears. His shaking hand raised his sword, about to slash the man who had attacked him. With wide eyes he saw him charging forward, the tip of the other's sword glinted dangerously in the light of the fire surrounding them.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, General Ulfric jumped between them and slashed the man's throat. Lokir nodded thankfully and earned a very short nod from the young General as well before he already charged at another group of Reachmen.

Lokir felt another sharp pain in his body and saw that an arrow had pierced his leg. He stumbled once more, his breath came heavily. He felt a pair of strong arms around him, dragging him out of the city and into safety.

"Stay here—"he heard a deep voice but his mind was already too clouded to realize who that man was that brought him to safety. Soon, darkness wrapped him like a blanket.

* * *

**Falkreath  
17****th**** of Frostfall, 4E 187**

A warm autumn-sun stood high in the sky, shining brightly down at the earth, bathing the landscape in her golden light.

At this time of year, Falkreath Hold was considered as the most beautiful of all nine Holds of Skyrim. Situated in the south, close to the border to Hammerfell and Cyrodiil lay the capital which gave this Hold its name:

Falkreath.

It was a tranquil little city, mostly unaffected by the slowly uprising rebellion between the Stormcloak faction and the Imperial Legionnaires. After the horrifying events in Markath eleven years ago, which were far and wide known as the Markath Incident and the sudden prohibition of the worship of Talos, Ulfric Stormcloak had begun to build up his own little militia. Falkreath was under Imperial influence which was not quite the taste of the citizens, but no one dared to speak up against the Legion.

This morning though was not as tranquil as if would normally be. A group of five children ran along the cobblestone path of the main road. They laughed and screamed while they chased each other with small, thick branches and pretended to be fearsome warriors.  
The group consisted of three boys and two girls. The girls were both eight years old, best friends since their birth and yet so different in their appearance just like day and night.

One had shoulder-length, black hair and a pair of hazelnut eyes. Her friend was a bit smaller than her, had long gold-blonde hair that reached to the middle of her spine.

Their branches crossed in mid-air and the intense emerald eyes of the blonde girl flashed in the light of the morning sun, before they broke out into laughter.

"I'm a much better warrior than _you _are, Fenya!" the blonde girl giggled and ran past her friend. As she turned around the next corner of the general goods store, she bumped into a tall, handsome Nord man with long, black hair and a dark beard framing his lips.

"Daddy! I thought you would come back no sooner than tomorrow!" the girl squealed and swung her arms around the man's waist. Lokir ruffled his daughter's hair as he replied,

"I could not stay away any longer, my love. And the Jarl ordered me back as well. So, tell me: What are you doing outside? A storm is coming; can you see those dark clouds over there?" He pointed up towards the mountain ranges where a blanket of grey clouds was slowly moving towards the city. "Why don't you help your mother a bit in the house?"

She cast a glance back at Fenya who watched them uncertainly. Lokir chuckled in defeat and added, "Fine, she can go with you. But you will both go to the house without any detours again!"

"Yes, daddy," the girl mumbled quietly and looked up at him with puppy eyes. At least, she tried.

"Oh, my little sweet-roll. You will never look innocent with these emeralds," he ruffled her hair again and placed a kiss on top of her head. "I love you, Mona," he whispered and she stepped away from him.

"I love you, too!" she sent him her brightest smile and signaled Fenya to follow her. The girls ran along the cobblestone path that led them to a quiet big house with the lumber-mill behind. It had a fenced front-garden in which a group of hens picked silently in the grass as well as two big oxen with long, brown fur.

"Hey Fluff! Hey Cuddle!" Mona waved merrily towards the oxen as they passed them and finally entered the house through the wooden door which was adorned with metal.

"Mommy! I'm home! Fenya's here, too!" she called and put her little fur-coat on a chair in the kitchen.  
Her mother, Nura, was a beautiful woman with long dark-blonde hair and the same pair of green eyes. She entered the kitchen and found the two girls at the table with their tiny hands in the cookie jar. The woman laughed and shook her head as she took the jar away from them.

"One cookie for each," she said with a smile and handed them both a cookie. The girls took them with shiny eyes. Nura placed the jar high up on a shelf and turned to watch her daughter and her best friend.

"Daddy is back!" Mona called while still munching on her cookie. Her short legs dangled over the edge of the chair.

"He is? Now that is a surprise. I thought he would not return before tomorrow," Nura said surprised, but was relieved to hear that. Though Lokir was not a warrior anymore due to an injury he got during the battle in Markath, he was called to attend in meetings with the militia nevertheless. "Now—who would like to help me cooking dinner for today?" she clapped in her hands and saw two pairs of eyes shining brightly at her.

Mona jumped down from the chair and bounced up and down. "I want! I want!" she called and giggled merrily as she ran towards the kitchen counter.  
Nura laughed and placed potatoes, tomatoes and leek on a cutting-board. "Alright, you can peel and cut potatoes and tomatoes. Fenya, you will help me with cutting the meat."

They spent nearly the whole afternoon cooking and soon the sun began to set. Amalya, Fenya's mother, just picked her daughter up and finally Lokir was able to return into his home again after reporting to the Jarl about his meeting in Whiterun.

After having dinner he picked Mona up on his arms and smiled at her. "Shall we go and read a book before you go to sleep?" he asked and she nodded enthusiastically. Nura stepped towards them and placed a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead.

"Sleep well, my love,"she whispered. Mona nuzzled her nose into her mother's hair and placed a kiss on her cheek as well.

"Good night, mommy!"

* * *

After changing into her night-attire and brushing her teeth, Mona snuggled under the blanket and watched her father who stood in front of the book shelf.

"Which story shall I read today?" he asked and cast a glance at her. She simply smiled and he knew very well what that kind of look meant. "Really? Aren't you tired already hearing that one?"

"No! I want to hear the story of Olaf!" she demanded and he chuckled while he took the book out of the shelf and kicked his boots off before he crawled under her blanket as well. She snuggled against him and he began to read,

"One of the more colorful legends in Nord folklore is the tale of Olaf One-Eye and Numinex.

"Long ago in the First Age, a fearsome dragon named Numinex ravaged the whole of Skyrim. The dreadful drake wiped out entire villages, burned cities and killed countless Nords. It seemed that no power in Tamriel could stop the monster.

"This was a troubled time in Skyrim's history, for a bitter war of succession raged between the holds. The Jarls might have been able to conquest the beast if they had worked together, but trust was in desperately short supply.

"A skillful warrior named Olaf came forward and promised to defeat the beast. In some accounts, he is the Jarl of Whiterun. In other versions of the legend, Olaf promises the people of Whiterun that he will capture the monster if they will name him Jarl.

"At any rate, Olaf ventures forth with a handful of his most trusted warriors and seeks the beast out, eventually finding Numinex in his lair atop Mount Athor. Needless to say, it's an epic battle."

Lokir continued to read the story to his daughter. Once he finshed it, he closed the book and looked down at his little girl. Mona's bright, emerald eyes had a hard time to stay open. He stroked through her long hair and whispered, "Good night, my love."

He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and carefully got out of the bed. Before he could leave the room, he turned around to cast another glance at his daughter. She gazed at him and rubbed her eyes sleepily.

"Daddy?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"One day—I will slay a dragon, too—"

He chuckled. "Sleep now, sweet-pie."

She mumbled incoherently and finally fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_**There is no hunting like the hunting of man; and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it never really care for anything else. ~Ernest Hemingway~**_

* * *

**Helgen  
17****th**** of Last Seed, 4E 201**

A throbbing pain grew in her head and her mouth was dry as she slowly regained consciousness again. It was as if she moved through a dark fog. The things around her were slightly blurred and almost unreal.

A snorting sound broke through to her ears and finally her vision cleared again. It felt to her as if she was on a ship which was lifting up and down with the waves until she realized that she was on a cart.

Her hand were bound which left her in a state of confusion. She did nothing wrong and yet it seemed as if she was captured like a criminal.

"Hey, you—"

She turned her head to look into the friendly face of a blonde Nord. "Finally awake? You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there," he said and nodded shortly towards the man sitting next to him.

"I don't understand—I'm not a criminal," she mumbled more to herself as the red-haired man in rags hissed,

"Damn you, Stormcloaks. Skyrim was nice and lazy until _you_ came along," he paused and watched her as he added, "You. We shouldn't be here! It's these Stormcloaks they want!"

"What have you done? Why are you here?" she asked curiously and shifted a bit, but was already distracted as she was aware of another man right next to her. She cast a glance at him, a glance he returned for just a second. His hands were bound, just like the rest of them, but his mouth was also gagged which caught her interest.

"Why is he gagged?" she turned to look at the blonde Nord who was way friendlier than the other one.

"This is Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim," he explained proudly and she looked back at the man next to her.

'_So, this is the man my father had told me stories about? He is the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion—but—but that would mean—'_her mind suddenly seemed to realize what this was all about.

"If they captured him—where are they taking us?" she asked now highly concerned. Her heart was bumping faster in her chest while her gaze drifted along the landscape. High pine trees and rocks flanked the cobblestone path. A deer crossed the road and vanished into the shadow of a rock when finally the gate of a city appeared in front of them.

"This is Helgen. I don't know what will happen next, but Sovngarde awaits," the blonde Nord said thoughtfully.

Once they had reached the city and stepped down from the cart they had to face an Imperial Captain as well as a Guard. He called the names which seemed to be written on the list he was holding in hand and one by one the group went smaller. After Ralof, the blonde Nord and Ulfric Stormcloak were already gone, the other man whose name was Lokir, from Rorikstead, made for a run. He did not come far, though as the archers brought him down.

"Wait—you! Step forward," the guard suddenly said and watched her intently.

She stepped forward and faced him directly. "Who—are you?" he asked curiously though he seemed to be quite distracted by her intense, emerald eyes.

"My name is Mona and I'm from Falkreath," she said with a strong voice, desperately hiding the fact that her knees were beginning to shake a bit.

"You are not on the list—"he stated and turned towards the Captain to ask what they should do with her.  
Mona should've known the answer as the Captain growled, "She goes to the block, just like everyone else."

The guard turned to look at her again with an almost apologetic look. "I'm sorry. At least, you'll die here, in your homeland."

"That is very comforting," Mona huffed and followed the Captain to the tower where the rest of them were patiently waiting for what was about to come. Which was, in fact, their certain death.

"Ulfric Stormcloak! Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero does not use a power like the Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne!"

Mona knew that the Imperial who was addressing Ulfric was called General Tullius. That, she had learned from Ralof earlier on the cart as they had entered through the gates and saw the General together with an Elf—or Thalmor, as Ralof had stated.

She hadn't really paid much attention to the General's little speech when suddenly a roar sounded from the distant. Her head jerked up to the sky, searching for the reason of that sound. That almost terrifying roar, but there was nothing to be seen.

"What was that?"

"It is nothing! Carry on!" General Tullius growled. Mona watched in horror as the head of a Stormcloak soldier was severed from his shoulders by the headsman's axe.

Her insides twisted as she felt a pair of hands grabbing her and pushing her toward the chopping block. Once again that roar rang through the air, making them all feel quite uncomfortable. They all stared into the air and yet there was still nothing. Mona felt a kick in her back as she dropped on her knees. A single tear rolled down her cheek while another soldier pushed her head onto the bloody chopping block. Her gaze drifted up to the headsman who tightened the grip around the hilt of his huge axe.

She wasn't entirely sure, but it was to her as if a huge, dark shadow just appeared in the sky above them. The headsman already raised his axe when suddenly, with an earthshaking thud, a huge, black dragon had landed on top of the tower right above them.

"_Dragon!"_

Mona reacted quickly and rolled away from the chopping block, landing on her back. The giant beast took a couple of seconds before it craned its neck and shouted. Fire and rocks rained down on Helgen, destroying houses and killing innocent citizens.

She staggered back on her feet, frantically searching for a place to hide. A growl reached her ears which made her cast a glance back up to the dragon. He shifted before it lifted up a bit, a stream of fire rained down on her. She jumped out of the way, but still her rag caught fire.

"No!" she cried out as she realized that her back was on fire. She dropped onto the ground again, rolling around in dirt in hope to stop the fire.

"Come, follow me!" she heard a familiar voice and felt a hand helping her up again. Her back was tingling, but there was no pain at all. She frowned but followed Ralof towards another tower. They stumbled inside right in the second as another stream of fire rained down into their direction. Ralof slammed the door shut and Mona dropped onto her knees with her hands still bound. She panted heavily as a pair of heavy leather-boots adorned with fur came into her view. Slowly she looked up and blushed heavily as she was aware that she lay to Jarl Ulfric's feet.

He bent down and cut her hands free and turned to look at Ralof who asked, "What was that thing? Could the legends be true?"

Ulfric huffed and cast a glance at Mona before he growled, "Legends don't burn down villages!"

Mona got up and brushed her hair out of her face. She was aware that her skin was covered in dirt, sweat and blood but she didn't care. She was alive and that was the most important thing to her in this very moment.

"We need to move—_now!"_

Mona followed Ralof up the spiral stairway. Suddenly stones crumbled as the huge head of the black dragon appeared in front of them. They staggered backwards, pressing their backs against the wall as a stream of fire filled the tower. She cast a glance back and saw that Ulfric was still unharmed.

Ralof took her hand and pulled her with him. They stopped at the hole in the wall and he pointed outside. "You see the Inn on the other side? It's our way out! Jump through the roof and keep going!" he said and watched her intently.

"Jump? "she asked in disbelief but realized there was no other way out. He nodded and hurried her once more.

"Go! We follow when we can!" he reassured her.

Mona took a deep breath and smiled at him.

"Well then—"she mumbled and jumped.


	3. Chapter 3

„_**Fate is not satisfied with inflicting one calamity" ~Publilius Syrus~**_

* * *

**Helgen  
17****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201**

After escaping into the keep with Ralof, Mona slumped to the ground and panted heavily. "That—that thing—where does it came from?"

Ralof strode along the room and searched for a way to open the door in the back. "I don't know where it came from. I only know one thing for sure: that was a dragon."

"Dragons are dead for a very, very long time," she exclaimed and got up on her feet again. She watched him approaching the body of a dead Stormcloak lying on the ground.

"Whatever happens out there, we should better keep moving and get away from here. Take his armor, you might need it more than he does," Ralof watched her and signaled her to take the armor off the dead body.

"That is disgusting—"she mumbled but knew that he was right. She needed protection and those rags she wore gave none. "I dare you, if I see you looking—"she glared at him and earned a soft chuckle. Ralof raised his hands in truce and turned his back at her to examine the gate on the other side of the circular room.

Once she changed into the Stormcloak armor and took the one-handed steel ax she turned to look at Ralof as the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway on the other side of the gate. She approached him quickly and signaled him to hide on both sides of the gate. He nodded understandingly.

"They can't be far!" a woman's voice spoke up and Mona immediately recognized her as the Imperial Captain who had sent her to the chopping block earlier even though she hadn't been on that god damn list. The young Nord woman readied her axe and prepared to strike down each Imperial coming through the gate. With a loud creak the gate opened and the two Imperials entered the room. They had no chance as Ralof and Mona charged at them ferociously.

Mona drove her ax right into the skull of the Captain, killing her with one blow. "That's for treating me like a criminal for no good reason," she hissed and cast a glance at Ralof who was already searching the dead bodies for a key to open the other door.

"You're fierce, that's for sure," he chuckled and picked the key out of the pocket of the Captain and signaled Mona to follow him. He opened the door and let her step into the wide hallway. She grinned cheekily at him as she replied,

"She deserved it. And _I_ had a reason to kill her—she had none trying to kill me earlier."

He nodded with a smile and together they followed the spiral stairway down deeper into the keep.

* * *

**Riverwood**

**18****th**** of Last Seed**

Mona had spent the night in the house of Ralof's sister Gerdur who ran the lumber-mill of Riverwood.

"How old are you, if I may ask?" Hod, Gerdur's husband, asked as she lowered down at the kitchen table. She filled her plate with bread and cheese and poured some milk in a mug.

"I'm twenty-two," she replied and leaned back in the chair, thoughtfully munching on her piece of bread. The images of the previous day still invaded her mind. Her gaze drifted to the few belongings of hers; including a steel-sword which she had taken from one of those Imperials she had cut down on her way out of the keep.

"So young and already facing death—such a shame," he mumbled. "Tell me, how did that dragon look like?"

"I can't tell you much, because I was more occupied with staying alive myself. But I can tell that it was huge, maybe as big as a house—or even more. Like I said, I was quite busy putting the fire out that was about to burn me alive and then escape with Ralof. I guess I wouldn't have made it without his help."

"Nah, I might have helped you up, but you killed more Imperials in the keep than _I_ did. So don't underestimate yourself. You are a warrior, I can sense that. And you're not unfamiliar with handling a sword. You're the stuff a Stormcloak is made of—maybe you should consider joining the rebellion," Ralof said with a smile as he lowered down between Hod and Mona at the table. He uncorked his bottle of mead and drowned it.

She chuckled and sipped from her milk before she replied, "Believe it or not, but that was the reason why I came back to Skyrim. I was on my way to Windhelm to join the rebellion. It was not my plan to get caught right at my first day back in my homeland and not even being a rebel at all."

The two men chuckled. "Before you go to Windhelm you should go and tell Jarl Balgruuf that Riverwood needs aid. Just in case the dragon returns. We don't have enough forces to defend ourselves," Hod said and got up. "And I sense you are a bit short on coin as well. How about you stay for some more hours and cut some wood outside at the mill? I pay you five coins for three pieces."

"Sounds fair enough and I am indeed short on coin. Those Imperial rats took all my money from me. Cutting wood might be the best idea for now. Do you have a spare ax for me?" she got up and pulled a ribbon out of her pocket to make a ponytail.

"There is one in the cupboard over there," Hod gestured towards a wooden cupboard. Mona opened it and found the ax. She took it and smiled as she remembered her teenage years helping her parents at the mill.

"I'll be back later," said and left the house. The fresh morning air caressed her skin and she felt more than good to be dressed in a clean fur-armor which Ralof had bought for her at the trader's shop of Lucan Valerius. He had bought her the fur-armor, a pair of fur-boots and a pair of leather-gloves. She had left the gloves in the house and made her way down the road, across the small wooden footbridge and reached the mill where she also found the chopping block and a pile of wood.

She already cut a good amount of wood as light footsteps behind her caught her attention. She turned and sent a confused smile at the elf watching her curiously. She assumed he was a Bosmer, the Elven folk of Valenwood.

"Can I help you?" she asked carefully and watched him as he let the pile of chopped wood drop into the grass.

"No—I was just curious, because I have never seen your face in this town," he replied and Mona immediately liked the friendly tone of his voice. She smiled even more and nodded as she replied,

"That's correct. I am new, just arrived the previous day. My name is Mona."

"My name is Faendal. You look like an adventurer," he stated and stepped closer to take a closer look at her armor. "Though this armor looks too fine to be on the road for too long."

Mona laughed and lifted the ax over her shoulder. "I am not an adventurer. I just returned to Skyrim two days ago and was on my way to Windhelm."

"Windhelm, huh? Not quite my taste. The Jarl has a high aversion against my folk. Anyway, I also don't like the cold harshness of the north. Riverwood is tranquil and warm—the river is not covered with ice-shelves and the trees are so green. I like it here very much. It's beautiful—"his voice drifted off as his gaze drifted back to the main road where a brunette woman was just leaving the trader's shop.

Mona raised her eyebrow as an amused smile tucked at the corner of her lips. "The town or its citizens?" she asked and pinched his arm in a friendly manner. He looked at her again and smiled.

"Both—"

"What's her name?" she asked curiously and watched the woman strolling along the road and chatting with an elderly woman in front of her house.

"Camilla Valerius—"he breathed in awe and made her chuckle again.

"Valerius? Like the trader?"

"She is his sister, yes. And the woman she's talking with right now is Hilde. She's Sven's mother—"

Mona didn't miss the harsh tone in his voice as he mentioned the other man's name and watched him intently. "And Sven took a shine on her as well, I guess?"

"Yes—look, you asked me if you could help me. I have the feeling that I can trust you, so there is indeed something you could do for me."

She leaned the ax against a fallen tree and turned to look at him again; interest shining brightly in her emerald eyes. "And what would that be?"

The elf reached into his satchel and revealed a piece of parchment. "Promise you won't judge me or that—"he said.

"I promise—"she smiled at him and finally he handed her the letter. "May I read it?"

He nodded and Mona read silently,

'_My dearest Camilla,_

_I yearn to have you as my own,  
Washing my linens,  
And my fine blond hair,  
to cook my dinner from my stove,  
And tend to my house while I wander._

Yours truly,

_Sven'_

Her gaze drifted to Faendal who shifted uncomfortably. He scratched the back of his head and explained,

"You have to understand—I wouldn't do this if there'd be another way to keep Sven away from her. That bard is not the right man for my beloved Camilla."

"Look, I can see that you love her—but do you really think this is the best way to win her heart?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. What would you say?"

Mona looked down at the letter again, trying to come up with an alternative. "Well—alright, I will keep this letter—"

"Will you give it to her?"

"Maybe. But first I'd like to go and talk with that Sven. Just to see what kind of man he is. If he is really such a brat like you made him appear in that writing, then I will go and give your letter to her. If not—"

"Yes?"

"Then I will return this letter back to you and you have to deal with this alone, alright?" she smiled at him and earned an agreeing nod.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me that you wouldn't go and tell Camilla about this."

"That's fine. Tell me, where can I find Sven?"

"He might be in the _Sleeping Giant Inn_ just down the road. There's a sign in the front, you can't miss it. And you won't miss him; he is the bard of the inn."

Mona pushed the letter into her satchel and patted Faendal's shoulder. "I'll see what I can do for you."

She left him behind and strolled along the cobblestone road that was leading her to the Inn. The dog lying on the front porch lifted his head and sniffed carefully as she bent down to stroke his grey fur. "I mean no harm, my friend," she whispered and smiled as the dog wagged his tail and licked her hand.

Finally she entered the Inn and was immediately welcomed by comforting warmth that was coming from the fireplace in the middle of the room. In one corner of the room she spotted an alchemy lab. She saw that there were at least three rooms for rent close by the bar where the innkeeper was thoughtfully polishing some mugs.

A blonde woman was sweeping the floor and paid no attention to her and finally Mona spotted the blonde bard in the back of the room sitting on a chair with a harp on his lap. She straightened herself and approached him.

"Are you Sven?"

He looked up at her and seemed to be quite surprised. "Indeed, I am. And who are you? You look like a traveller. Someone that has seen faraway places and heard new stories."

"Something like that, yes. I am quite new to this town, just arrived the previous day and I don't know much about this place at all," she tried to come up with a good way to bring the subject up and therefore added, "I only know Gerdur and Hod so far, as well as Lucan and his sister."

Sven's eyes shone brighter as she mentioned Camilla and she bit back a triumphant smile. He shifted on his chair and said, "Oh, Camilla—I know some day she will know of my affections. Some day—"

"What keeps you from telling her straight forwardly how you feel about her?" Mona asked curiously and lowered down into the chair next to him, watching him intently.

His expression grew cold as he replied, "Faendal thinks he can woo Camilla away from me. She's already mine and I keep telling him that every day."

"She is already yours? But I thought—"

"Camilla knows I'm the best man in Riverwood so there is no need for me to tell her about my feelings. That elf is kidding himself if he thinks she would choose him over me. I've seen him sneaking over to the trader shop to speak with her when I'm not around. He's wasting his time."

With each of his self-regarding words and the way he talked about Faendal, whom she considered as an honest and friendly elf, she grew to dislike that young man more and more. She couldn't keep the sarcastic comment for herself as she said,

"Oh yes, two people spending time together never blossoms into courtship."

Sven glared at her. "Is that sarcasm? I've heard better wisecracks from Orgnar," he made a gesture towards the innkeeper and continued, "Still, you have a point. Camilla letting Faendal visit her isn't a good thing for me. Here," he reached into his pocket and revealed a letter which he handed her to Mona and added, "Take this letter and tell Camilla this is from Faendal. That should get her to stop inviting the elf over."

Mona unfolded the letter. "I will read this first, alright?"

He nodded with a bored wave of his hand. Mona lowered her face and rolled her eyes as she read silently,

'_Dear Camilla,_

_I know I have called upon you at your house many times, and while we may be growing close,  
I need you to put any desired you may have for me aside. I am a true-born son of Valenwood,  
and I could never befoul my bloodline by courting an Imperial.  
I hope we can remain true friends, provided you understand your people's place in the Aldmeri  
Dominion, and respect me as such._

_Sincerely, Faendal'_

Even though being aware that Camilla seemed to be worshipper of the Empire, Mona grew angry with the way Sven was talking about her as if she was already his and denounce the elf so much. Though Faendal's letter was just as venomous as this one, but he had proven to her that his feelings were sincere and that he would try to win her over and not declaring her as his already.

"Alright, I will go and talk to Camilla," she got up and didn't give him any chance to reply. She left the Inn and made her way to the trader shop. Upon entering she cast a glance around and spotted the brunette woman sitting at a table in the back of the room. She blonde girl approached her and lowered down on the opposite chair.

"Do I know you?" Camilla asked curiously and watched Mona carefully.

"No, but I have a letter for you—from Sven," she replied and handed her the letter Faendal had written.

"Another poem, I'll bet. He does know how to make a girl blush," Camilla smiled and took the letter.

'_He definitely knows how to make a girl want to punch his face,'_ Mona thought silently and watched the expression of the other woman fall with each sentence.

Finally her gaze lifted to look at Mona in anger. "If that oaf thinks all I'm going to do is stay in that filthy house of his and clean, I'll—," she fell silent for a second and placed the letter onto the table. "You can tell Sven that he already has a mother. I'm not speaking to him anymore."

"I have met him and believe me, that's the best for you. He's not worth it," Mona said and sent her an encouraging smile as she got up again. "Excuse me now; I still have some errands to run."

"Of course. And thank you for opening my eyes," Camilla waved at her and Mona left the shop to go search Faendal.

She found him where she had last seen him, chopping wood. "Faendal!" she called and approached him.

"Did you bring her the letter?" he asked desperately as he saw her approaching him. Mona sent him a cheeky grin once she stopped in front of him.

"I don't think Camilla will be spending any more time with Sven," she replied and patted his shoulder. A bright smile spread on his face as he exclaimed,

"I really appreciate your help. Please, take this," he reached into his pocket and revealed a small coin purse and added, "Some gold I've saved from working at the mill."

"Oh, no, that is really not necessary," she protested but he placed the purse into the palm of her hand and closed her fingers around it.

"Please, it would mean a lot to me if you take it. You just made it possible that the love between Camilla and me may finally be able to bloom. Thank you, really, and if you ever need help from an excellent archer—just come and ask. I'll gladly help you whenever I can."

Mona nodded and smiled at him. "First good deed back in my homeland and it was in the name of love," she giggled and pushed the coin purse into her pocket. "It is quite late, I should go now. It was really nice to meet you, Faendal and I wish you all the best for you and Camilla."

She waved at him and left to return back to Gerdur's house to get paid for the chopped wood. Once Hod had given her a bag with two-hundred coins, she stored it in her satchel and pulled a journal bound in blue leather out of it. She placed it on the bed and took a quill and an ink bottle from the night-table.

She kicked her boots off and opened her ponytail, letting her long mane wave gracefully over her shoulder and down to the middle of her spine before she lowered down on the soft bed. Carefully she opened the journal and dipped the quill into the ink, stared thoughtfully at the blank first page of the journal and finally wrote her worst words down onto the paper:

_'Dear Diary—'_


	4. Chapter 4

** "All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on." ~Henry Ellis~**

* * *

**Whiterun**

**19th of Last Seed, 4E201**

Rain poured down on her while Mona was still on her way from Riverwood to Whiterun. She had promised Gerdur to call for aid from the Jarl of Whiterun. She sighed heavily as she stopped on a rocky outcropping from where she had a wonderful view over the Whiterun Plains. The silhouette of the palace, Dragonsreach, rose up in the distance. She pulled her hood tighter over her head and jumped down onto the path to run the last few miles towards the city.

"Halt! This city is closed due to the dragon attack," the guard at the front gate stopped her and watched her suspiciously.

"And what if I live here?"

"You don't live here. I have never seen your face around here so you better get lost now before we lock you up!" the guard grumbled.

She crossed her arms and said with a poker face, "Oh well, if you want to be the one being blamed if Riverwood gets destroyed before I could call for help from Jarl Balgruuf—I don't care," she turned on her heels and slowly walked down the path again.

"Wait!"

She grinned in satisfaction and turned to cast a glance at the guard again who ran towards her. "Riverwood's in danger, too?"

"Isn't that obvious? A dragon attacked Helgen and you think he will ignore the city between Whiterun and Helgen? Of course, he will attack! And even if not, that city needs aid! They don't have enough forces to defend themselves! Will you let me in now so I can talk to the Jarl?"

"Y—yes, sure, but—but don't tell him that I refused to let you in, alright?" he stammered and signaled her to follow him. Mona chuckled as she replied,

"I don't even know your name, silly."

He stared at her as she winked cheekily and vanished through the open gate. Mona had never been to Whiterun ever before, only knew the stories of her father about the beauty if this city and now she saw that everything he had said was true. Though the streets were still wet from the rain but she inhaled deeply and smelled a very remarkably scent. The air was fresh and clean in this part of the country and she watched a couple of children running along the road playing tag.

She smiled as a blonde girl stopped and waved at her. Mona waved at her and moved up the flight of stairs. She stopped and cast a glance at the impressive tree in the middle of a small courtyard. "It looks beautiful and yet it seems to be sick," she mumbled and winced as a voice next to her said,

"The Gildergreen, yes. It's a bit of an eyesore at the moment. More of a problem for the pilgrims than for me, but not many of them around anymore."

Mona cast a glance at the elder woman dressed in brown robes. She seemed to be a priestess of the temple. Her gaze drifted back to the tree. "And what is so special about that tree?"

"To the east of here is a hidden grove where the Eldergleam resides. It's the oldest living thing in Skyrim. Maybe all of Tamriel. Our tree here in the city was grown from a cutting of that tree. You can still feel the glory of the mother tree through it. Even its name is an echo. "

Mona nodded thoughtfully while her gaze still rested on the tree. "And is there a way to revive this tree? It would be sad to let it die."

The priestess shifted. "I've thought about that—Trees like this never really die. They only slumber."

"Yes, but it looks sick!" Mona pointed out and stepped towards the tree, carefully placed the palm of her right hand against the massive, grey trunk.

"I think if we had some of the sap from the parent tree, we could wake up its child. But even if you could get to the Eldergleam, you couldn't tap it. Not with any normal metal," the priestess stepped towards the young woman.

"And what kind of weapon would work?" she asked curiously.

"Eldergleam is older than metal, from a time before men or elves. To even affect it, you have to tap into the old magic."

Mona huffed. "I'm not much into magic, you know?"

"You don't have to learn magic for that, but use some special kind of weapon. You'll have to deal with the Hagravens. I've heard about a weapon they've made for sacrificing Spriggans."

"I hope you know that I don't understand anything you're saying," Mona stated and lowered down on the wooden bench.

The priestess ignored her statement and continued, "It is called 'Nettlebane'. The hags terrify me, or I would have gone after it myself."

"What makes you so certain I could help you?"

"I don't know if you can, but you seem fearless. The Hags smell fear and that is your end. Be fearless and you might have a chance."

Mona leaned back against the back of the bench and stared up at the old, grey branches of the tree. She always loved nature and it filled her heart with sorrow to see such an old and important tree suffer in its slumber or even sickness. She got up and sighed heavily, "Though I still have some other business to attend to," she gestured up towards the palace, "But once that's done I will try and get that weapon for you."

The hint of a smile showed up on the priestess face. "Your spirit is strong. Kynareth's winds will guide your path."

"Thank you. May I ask for your name?"

The priestess bowed a bit and took Mona's hand before she replied, "Danica Pure-Spring. And yours?"

"My name is Mona. Oh, and one more question. Where do I find Nettlebane?"

"It's held in a Hagraven nest called Orphan Rock. You best travel to Helgen and from there up north."

"Helgen, huh? Well, like I said it might take some time for me to get back to you. I really have to leave and see the Jarl now," Mona said and sent one last smile at Danica and finally moved up the steps that were leading her to the front door of the palace.

"Looking for trouble or so?" one of the guards asked and watched her carefully.

"No, are you?" she replied and earned a simple huff from the guard before she pushed the heavy wooden doors open and stepped into the warmth of the palace.

* * *

**Bleak Falls Burrow  
****19****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201**

"Take this you filthy son of a rat," Mona hissed and drove her sword into the body of an attacking Draugr. A guttural sound escaped the beast's throat before its lifeless body crashed against the girl, pinning her against the wall.

"You got to be kidding me," she grumbled and pushed the heavy body away. She panted heavily and bent down to pick up the golden claw. The man who she had rescued from a huge spider just moments ago had been a bandit who had tried to run from her instead of handing her the promised claw. Now he had paid with his life for betraying her, though it was a Draugr who had killed him.

Mona examined the claw and saw three symbols engraved. "Alright—"she mumbled and pushed the claw into her satchel.

After solving the secret of the puzzle door Mona stepped into a huge chamber that smelled humid and the sound of a waterfall echoed from the wet walls. Dim light fell into the back of the cave and she stepped carefully forward. She stepped onto a platform and stopped dead in her tracks as the sound of the falls seemed to vanish more and more and a humming noise began to vibrate in her ears. She cast a glance around, couldn't make out any enemy until a blue glowing light caught her attention. It was as if it was pulsating on the surface of a black wall which Mona approached slowly.

Suddenly she saw a blue glowing sign, written in a language unknown to her and yet her inner voice spoke silently, "_Fus"_

"Force?" Mona mumbled more than confused that she knew the translation of the word at all. Her heart was banging rapidly in her chest while she felt a strange new feeling growing in her body. That was as a loud crack sounded up behind her.

She whirled around and saw with horror as the black sarcophagus burst open and a draugr overlord stepped out of it. This one was obviously more dangerous than any of the normal draugrs earlier and she tightened the grip around the hilt of her sword.

"You got a problem?" she called and signaled him to charge for her. She wouldn't be so dumb and make the first charge. He approached her with a furious growl and let his mace go down on her. She deflected his blow and stumbled back, crashed against the wall. The draugr laughed at her and inhaled deeply.

"You think that was funny?" she yelled and staggered back on her feet as she heard him shouting something strangely familiar and a sudden force hit her, made her stumbled just slightly and yet she stood her ground. "Alright, meet your end!"

She yelled and charged at him, slashed and hacked in blind fury until she drove her sword right through his throat. He dropped on his knees and fell back. Mona pulled her sword out of him and brushed the sweat from her forehead.

"Dragonstone—Dragonstone, where are you?" she sing-sang while searching through the sarcophagus and finally found it in the pocket of the draugr. "There you are," she smiled in triumph and gave the dead creature a last kick in its rips before she took the flight of stairs and entered another tunnel where she pulled at a handle which elevated the stone wall in front of her. Finally she stepped out of the dungeons again and into the fresh evening air.

"Back to Whiterun—"she breathed and ran down the hillside with a triumphatic laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

**_"Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it." ~Helen Keller~_**

* * *

**Whiterun  
20th of Last Seed, 4E201**

It took her several hours to get back to Whiterun and the moon stood already high in the sky. Mona cast a glance up towards the night-sky and smiled. Despite everything she'd been through since her return a couple of days ago, her love for this country was still manifested deeply in her very heart and soul.

Now that she strolled along the road towards the marketplace, she decided that it would make no sense to get back to the palace at an hour like this. It must be already past midnight and the Jarl as well as his court-mage would be asleep already.

"Sleep—definitely something I need right now," she mumbled and bumped into someone.

"You better keep watching where you go, lady," a guard grumbled and watched her, his face hidden under his helm.

"Seems you haven't paid much attention either or else you could've moved aside," she replied and winked at him with a small and tired smile.

He huffed and stepped aside. "You look tired, lady. You better go home and catch some sleep," he said now a bit more friendly.

"Oh, home would be too far now. I prefer the Inn over there," she chuckled and pointed towards the _Bannered Mare_ Inn just a few feet ahead.

"Then go ahead. Have a good rest," he said and marched off down towards the city gate. Mona watched him until he was out of sight and finally she turned and walked up the flight of stairs and entered the Inn.

Upon entering she was immediately greeted by comforting warmth of the fireplace in the middle of the room. She pulled her hood off and let her hair cascade over her shoulders. After a quick glance around the room she spotted just one Nord sitting at the fire, a bard sitting in the corner as well as the maid and the Innkeeper.

"Good evening, traveller. What can I do for you?" the woman behind the bar asked and watched her with a friendly smile on her face.

"I would like to rent a room for the night," she replied and rummaged in her pocket. "How much is it?"

"Ten coins. You're lucky—due to the dragon attack in Helgen, not many travellers come here at the moment. Therefore the rooms are almost all unoccupied. Is there anything else you need?"

"Actually, I'm starving. Do you have a soup or anything?"

"Saadya! Bring our guest a bowl of your soup!" the innkeeper called towards a Redguard woman that had just stepped into the room from the kitchen. She nodded shortly and turned on her heels again, preparing a bowl for Mona. She strolled towards the fire and waited patiently for her meal.

"Thank you," she said as the woman handed her a bowl of steaming hot soup as well as a piece of bread and a jar of mead. Silently she ate the soup, enjoying the warmth filling her now from inside as well. Her body felt sore and tired and she knew if she wouldn't fall into a soft bed right now, she would fall asleep in this position, in the middle of the Inn. And she couldn't risk that someone takes that chance and robbed her bag with the Dragonstone.

After finishing her soup she placed the bowl onto the bar. "Which room is mine?"

"Just up the flight of stairs and the first room on the right."

"Thank you once again," she smiled and picked her belongings up from the ground and headed upstairs where she entered the quite cozy room. She placed her bag under the bed and undressed out of her armor. Carefully she tried to take a look at her back in the mirror. There it was—a black sign, like a tattoo, showing a dragon with its wings spread over her shoulder-blades and its open jaws in the middle of her spine. Since her encounter with the huge, black dragon in Helgen, since her back was set on fire for a couple of moments that day, this sign had appeared on her back and she had no idea what that meant. There had to be a greater, deeper meaning behind that. It was to her as if this was brand marking her as someone or something, and yet she had no idea what it was.

She shrugged and crawled under the blanket. From downstairs she could hear the faint voice of the bard singing a song. The melody was beautiful, but she couldn't hear the text and yet it seemed to lull her even more to sleep. It didn't take long and the blonde girl was off to the land of dreams.

* * *

**Dragonsreach, Whiterun  
****20****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201**

"Ah, you made it out alive! And you have the Dragonstone. Seems you're a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way," Farengar, the court-wizard, said once upon Mona entered his room in the palace.

"Well, thanks for your confidence," she mumbled as she handed him the quite heavy stone. "If that's all—oh no, wait, how about a reward or something? I mean, I had to fight my way through groups of draugrs and a huge spider!"

The wizard folded his arms in front of his chest and watched her quite amused. "You'll have to see the Jarl about that. Or maybe his steward, Avenicci. I'm sure one of them will pay you for that," he turned away from her and handed the stone to another person standing at the table which Mona had nearly missed. It was a woman dressed with a dark hood as if no-one should see her face. The wizard added, "My—associate here will be pleased to see your handiwork. She discovered its location, by means she has so far declined to share with me."

The woman shifted and took the stone. Her gaze drifted to Mona with slight respect. "You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work," and with that she turned to look at the wizard, "Just send me a copy once you deciphered it."

"I'll take my leave then," Mona mumbled and turned away just to bump into Irileth. The Dark-Elf woman was the housecarl of Jarl Balgruuf and Mona couldn't stand her the slightest. She had no problems with Elves, but this one was way too arrogant and the dark tone of her voice made her blood boil immediately.

"Farengar! You better come with me! The Jarl wants to see us," then she turned to look at Mona and added, "You should come as well."

"Why? I've done what was asked from me. My work is done here—"

"Your work is done when we say so, is that clear? And now follow me," she snapped back and turned on her heels. If looks could kill, the Dunmer woman would poof in a pile of ashes right now as Mona's eyes flashed in the light of the torches. She huffed and followed her up the flight of stairs where Jarl Balgruuf, his steward as well as a soldier were waiting for them.

"What's the matter?" Mona asked as she sensed the tension among the group. She cast a quick glance at the wooden table where a map of Skyrim was spread, little red and blue flags pinned into it. She knew that the red flags signaled the location of Imperial camps while the blue ones signaled those of the Stormcloaks. _'Maybe I should take a closer look—'_

"So, Irileth tells me you came from the western watchtower?" the voice of the Jarl pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned to cast a glance at the group again. The soldier fumbled nervously with his sleeve.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Tell him what you told me. About the dragon," Irileth said.

"Wait, what? The dragon returned?" Mona stepped closer and watched them curiously. She earned a warning look from the Elf and Irileth signaled the soldier to go on.

"Uh—that's right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast—faster than anything I've ever seen."

Mona saw that the face of the Jarl fell a bit. "What did he do? Is he attacking the watchtower?" he asked.

"No, my Lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life. I thought it would come after me for sure," the soldier said still with fear-stricken voice.

"Well," Mona clapped enthusiastically into her hands and grinned cheekily as she said, "Certainty of death, small chance of success—what are we waiting for?"

They stared at her in disbelief and Mona threw her hands up and sighed. "I thought that might lighten the mood a bit."

Irileth shook her head. "I gathered some guardsmen. We are ready to leave."

"Good. And you," the Jarl pointed at the blonde girl. "You will go with them. You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here."

Mona really had to bit back the urge to chuckle. She straightened herself and nodded. "Will be done, even though I fail to see how I have experience at all. Does fleeing count as experience?"

The Jarl sighed heavily. "Whatever, I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city."

"How generous. So, let's hope I make it out alive, right?" she chuckled and fell silent again. "I mean, thank you, I appreciate that."

"Good and now go!"

* * *

**Whiterun, Western Watchtower  
****20****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201**

"Here, take this!" one of the soldiers yelled and threw a bow and a quiver with arrows at her while the dragon circled over them. Mona caught the weapons and nocked an arrow. She aimed for the dragon once he was overhead, but she missed him.

"Damn!" she grumbled. "I hate bows!" she threw it to the ground and pulled the one-handed sword out of its sheath. "_You hear me, lizard? Come down and fight properly!" _

"What are you doing, girl?" Irileth hissed while hiding behind a rock.

"I will end his life! And, just for your info, _this_ is not the dragon that attacked Helgen! There are more of them out there and I will _not_ let them take over my country!" she yelled and turned her back at her. She stumbled a bit as the dragon landed on the ground just a few feet ahead. "Now we're talking," she grinned and charged towards him. The stream of fire missed her as she jumped behind a rock. She knew he would need a few moments to be able to breathe fire again. That was her chance.

"Hey!" she called while standing on top of the rock. The dragon lifted his head and growled at her. "I will give you a taste of some iron right up your jacksie now!"

And with that she jumped down and charged at him, driving her sword into his hard-scaled skin. The dragon roared furiously and breathed fire again towards the soldiers trying to approach him. Mona rolled under his body and plunged her sword into his belly. He roared in pain and lifted up into the sky again. She looked up and brushed some of her blood-covered strands of hair out of her face while she got up again and prepared for another attack.

Arrows were flying through the sky, soldiers cried out in desperation while black smoke rose up from the burning watchtower. Mona kept her eyes glued to the dragon and ducked away from his fire-stream again.

'_Daddy? One day I will slay a dragon, too'_ she heard her voice as she remembered saying this to her father after he read her the story of Olaf and Numinex.

The ground shook violently again as the dragon landed in front of her. "And I _will_ kill a dragon now!" she growled and dived under his neck before he could snap at her. "Arrows, now!" she called while she slashed the soft skin under his neck. It took them only moments from then and finally he roared one last time. Mona rolled away and staggered to her feet.

She sheathed her sword and brushed sweat from her forehead. With a triumphant smile she approached Irileth when suddenly she was aware that everyone was staring behind her. She frowned and turned around. She gasped as she saw that the body of the dragon began to burn, his scales vanished and with sudden force a golden stream hit Mona right in the chest. It did not hurt and was more like a strong breeze and lasted only mere seconds. She panted and stared at the skeleton of the dragon.

"What—what was that?" she asked confused and turned to look at the soldiers. Everyone was staring at her in utter disbelief.

"I can't believe it! You're—Dragonborn!" a soldier said and looked at her quite impressed.

"Uhm—Dragonwhat?" she asked even more confused now.

The soldier shifted closer to her. "In the very oldest tales, back when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power."

"I have the feeling I should know about this tales, but I can't quite remember them," she mumbled.

"But that's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed that dragon's power?" the soldier asked again.

"How should I know what happened?" she replied and cast a glance at Irileth. "Do you know anything about it?"

"I don't care much about Nord tales and I believe in what I see and I see a dead dragon! That's all I care about now!"

"Maybe I can breathe fire now—you should watch your tongue," Mona snapped and inhaled deeply making the Elf wince. The blonde girl chuckled and shook her head. "So much to not believing in such tales, huh?"

"Well, there is one way to find out," another soldier said. "You could really try and shout."

"And what should I shout?" she asked but suddenly remembered that strange word she had learned in the dungeon just a few hours ago. Maybe there was a connection between that word and the power of a dragon. Was it a word of the dragon language? "You think I can shout and something will happen? Without training or so?"

"According to the old legends, only the Dragonborn can Shout without training, the way the dragons do."

Mona concentrated for a moment before she shouted, "_Fus!"_

A small shockwave made the grass wiggle and she looked up in surprise. The soldiers watched her impressed.

"It is true—you _are_ Dragonborn!"

A broad smile popped up on her face upon hearing this. She couldn't wait to find more information about being a Dragonborn. She was about to turn around as Irileth spoke up again,

"I will stay here and help my soldiers. Go back and report to the Jarl what happened here."

"Of course," Mona mumbled and turned to cast a glance at the Elf before she added, "And one day I will really breathe fire and you will be the first to burn," she winked and grinned cheekily before she headed back to the palace.

She hoped that this was the last time she had to work for him. She couldn't wait to leave Whiterun and finally travel to Windhelm.

She, as the Dragonborn, would be the perfect addition to Ulfric's rebellion and he would know that.

A satisfied smile was plastered on her face the entire way back to the palace.

'_And you, Tullius, can start your last prayers!'_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A belief is not merely an idea the mind possesses; it is an idea that possesses the mind. ~Robert Oxton~**_

* * *

**Whiterun  
****20****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201**

The Jarl watched the young, blonde woman intently after listening to her report about the dragon-attack. Mona had just ended as she added,

"It turns out that I am the so-called 'Dragonborn'—I don't know if you have heard it earlier, but there was some kind of thunder rolling through the air and I mean I heard the word _Dovahkiin_. Can you tell me anything about that?"

Jarl Balgruuf exchanged a surprised look with his steward before he shifted uncomfortably on his throne. "Dragonborn? What do you know about the Dragonborn?"

Mona chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. "The only thing I can tell you is that when the dragon died, I absorbed some strange power from him."

His eyes grew wide as he overlooked her once again. Mona shifted from one foot to the other, still covered in blood. To him she looked almost daring despite her quite small frame. "So it is true. The Greybeards really were summoning you."

She tilted her head a bit. "Uhm—the who?"

"They are the masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the World," Balgruuf explained with the hint of admiration in his voice. Mona sensed that he was quite excited about all this.

"And what do they want from me?" she asked curiously and pushed her hair back.

"The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Way of the Voice—the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or Shout. If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your gift."

"Well, seems luck is on my side, right?" she said and bit back a smile as she saw the confused look on the men's faces. The ruby in the Jarl's golden circlet shone brightly in the light of the torches hanging on both sides of the throne. Mona could feel the warmth of the fireplace behind her in the middle of the hall.

"I don't know what you mean," Balgruuf said confused.

"The return to my homeland started on the chopping block, escaping a dragon and killing another dragon. Now it turns out that I'm quite important," she chuckled as she added, "Imagine General Tullius' face when he would find out I am the Dragonborn _after_ he beheaded me."

No one else seemed to find this amusing and so she sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "Alright—what's the plan for this Dragonborn-thing now?"

She earned a heavy sigh before Balgruuf replied, "You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor and not just a—Dragonborn-thing."

Mona raised her hands in truce and bit back a smile. "High Hrothgar—I suppose that's the place where these Greybeards live?"

"Indeed and I envy you. To climb the 7,000 steps again—I made the pilgrimage once, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't even know you before, but wait what did you say?" she stared at him in disbelief. "Did you say—7,000 steps up a mountain?"

The Jarl nodded silently. "I believe if you give up on this you might not be the Dragonborn."

She stepped closer and straightened herself a bit. "I never give up on anything! And if you excuse me now, I have to attend some other business and climb a mountain," she turned away and moved down the three steps until she stopped as she heard the Jarl calling her again. She rolled her eyes and turned around to watch him questioningly.

"You've done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant. Here, take this weapon," he got up and revealed a one-handed steel axe. Mona took it quite amazed and lifted it up.

"Thank you! Every weapon is a good weapon as long as it slashes a dragon or an Imperial," she said and sheathed the axe. Another heavy silence surrounded her and she added, "I guess I should go now, right?"

The Jarl kept silent and lowered back on his throne. She shrugged and moved down the flight of stairs and headed towards the entrance. She was already halfway out of the door as another voice suddenly spoke up next to her. Mona whirled around and placed her hand on her chest to lower her fast beating heart.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a brunette woman covered in steel-armor said and sent her a friendly smile.

"Who are you?" Mona asked suspiciously and watched her over.

"The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It's an honor to serve you, Thane" she replied and bowed her head a bit. Mona stared at her confused and asked,

"Sounds interesting. Do you have a name?"

"My name is Lydia," she replied and tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. Mona sensed that the other woman was quite nervous. She might have never served as a housecarl before. And to be honest, Mona had no idea what she should do with her.

"Nice to meet you, Lydia. And please, call me Mona. So, what does a housecarl do anyway?"

Lydia straightened herself and said proudly, "As my Thane, I'm sworn to your service. I'll guard you, and all you own, with my life."

"First of all, Lydia: I don't want to be called Thane, like I already said. My name is Mona and that's how I want to be called. And secondly—are you really certain that you want to go with me? Wherever I go?"

"I would die for you, that's my job," Lydia replied determined and stepped closer towards her. "It would be an honor to go with you, Mona. Wherever that might be."

The two women looked into each other's eyes for several moments until Mona smiled and nodded in defeat. "Well then—follow me, my friend."

"Friend?" Lydia asked almost in a whisper as she followed Mona towards the huge, wooden double-door.

The blonde woman stepped outside and signaled Lydia to follow her as she said, "Aye—friend."

* * *

**Windhelm  
****22****nd**** of Last Seed, 4E201**

The cold wind blew against their faces while the two women walked silently down along the road. Snow covered the ground and the landscape around them and Lydia rubbed her hands to warm them up a bit.

"I don't like the cold. That's why I preferred to live in Whiterun. It's always sunny there—"

Mona huffed amused. "That's why I asked you if you're certain to come with me. Tell me, are you fine with my decision to join the rebellion? Or are you more a worshipper of the Empire?"

As she got no response she stopped and saw Lydia staring at her. "Everything alright?" the Dragonborn asked with a confused smile and approached her friend.

"It's just—what would you do if I'm an Imperial?"

Mona raised an eyebrow and stepped a bit closer. With a low and threatening voice she said, "I would grab you—smash you to the ground and impale you with my sword right here and now."

Lydia's eyes grew wide which made the other break out into laughter. Mona patted her shoulder and said with a cheeky grin on her lips, "That was a joke. You are my housecarl _and_ my friend. I would make you a Stormcloak enthusiast quicker than you can say 'Talos, help me'. Which you wouldn't say actually when you're an Imperial, right?"

"If I may say—travelling with you is quite amusing."

"Yet—I don't know what there's to come in the future. Never forget that we're going to travel 7,000 steps up towards a temple soon. But now I cannot wait to see Windhelm with my very own eyes. I love this weather here and my father had told me so much about the city."

"Not to forget that you nearly found your death side by side with Jarl Ulfric, right?" Lydia chuckled as they walked on down the road.

"He's impressive I think. And he's doing the right thing. No one should forbid us to worship Talos. He was a true Nord—a true hero."

"And a Dragonborn. Just like you are."

"Aye—but that doesn't make me a goddess. I always preferred to fight. When I was a child I often pretended to be a warrior. I hope we can go and visit Falkreath sometime soon. I was born and raised there. I'm curious if any of my friends are still living there and how they are."

"I'm sure that we're able to go there. Oh, look! We're nearly there," Lydia pointed into the distance.

"How about a little competition?" Mona asked cheerfully.

"What do you mean?"

"We run to the stables. The loser has to pay a round of mead."

They both fell silent until Lydia nodded with a smile. "Fine, sounds fair—hey!" She laughed as Mona was already on the run. "Just you wait!" she called and followed her.

* * *

**Windhelm, Palace of the Kings  
****22****nd**** of Last Seed, 4E201**

The heavy iron door shut with a loud bang as Mona and Lydia stepped into the wide throne hall of the palace. In the middle of the hall was a long table with several benches. In the back of the hall they saw the huge throne made of stone. The Stormcloak banner hung at the wall to both sides of the throne.

"Isn't this wonderful?" Mona breathed with an amazed smile on her lips as her gaze drifted along the hall, aware that the two guards on both sides of the door watched her suspiciously. She moved on, her fingertips glided over the wooden table. Suddenly she stopped and stared at the two men entering the hall. _'There he is,'_ she thought and bit back a smile as she watched Ulfric lowering down on his throne, still in a deep conversation with another man.

"Stay behind," she whispered into Lydia's ear. The brunette woman nodded understandingly and stepped aside into the shadows, while Mona inhaled deeply and approached the throne with a determined look on her face.

"Jarl Ulfric, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I think we have a lot to discuss," she said and stopped nearby his throne. His gaze drifted to her, his pale-green eyes lay on her for several moments before he said, "Only the foolish or courageous approach a Jarl without summons. Do I know you?"

She let out a small laugh as she stared at him in disbelief. "If you know me? I do believe you should remember me!"

Ulfric watched her for several moments again and he realized that there was something familiar about her. But the most interesting thing was that he was amused about her fiery behavior. A smile tucked at the corner of his mouth.

"Ah—yes, you were with us at Helgen. Destined for the chopping block if I'm not mistaken."

She clapped into her hands and nodded. "Aye, you're correct. And I helped Ralof to escape. He said he'd vouch for me."

"Ralof's alive? I hope that's true. He's a damn good man."

Mona crossed her arms in front of her chest and watched him challengingly as she replied, "And I'm a damn good woman. I'm here to join your rebellion."

Ulfric got up and stepped closer, his dark-blonde hair was thick and just like that of a lion while his mouth was framed by a short-cut beard. "Just because you escaped the chopping block and a dragon doesn't make you a good woman. You may just have been lucky. And Ralof hasn't returned yet, so I'll need to wait for his account. For now, go and speak to Galmar. I'm always looking for able fighters. Not everyone can say they made it out of Helgen. Seems we're all branded villains these days," he stepped even closer and looked deep into her intense emerald eyes as he added, "So long as your criminal past stays in the past, and you fight for me with honor and integrity, we'll welcome you into our ranks."

Another cheeky grin curled her lips that made her eyes shine even brighter. Once again he had the feeling that she could be of great value for him, even though he hadn't seen her fight until now. She pushed a strand of her golden hair out of her face as she finally replied,

"You won't regret it. And now—where do I find Galmar?"


	7. Chapter 7

**_In order to learn the important lessons in life, one must, each day, surmount a fear. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson_**

* * *

**Serpentstone Isle  
23****rd**** of Last Seed, 4E201**

An icy wind blew about the snow-covered landscape and whirled around the blonde girl that was kneeling in the snow, her sword lay beside her. She panted heavily and looked down at the icy creature she had just killed several moments before.

Mona chuckled and reached for the teeth of the Ice Wraith. Killing that creature was a test of becoming a Stormcloak, but she had no idea why Lydia wasn't allowed to accompany her to this godforsaken place.

"You go alone, young one. This is your test and yours alone," she imitated Galmar's voice and staggered back to her feet. She sheathed her sword onto her back, wrapped the icy teeth into a cloth and pushed them into her satchel.

Casting a glance around, she saw nothing but snow and the ice-cold water surrounding the small island. The standing stones were not that interesting for her and so she decided to return back to Windhelm. She took a deep breath and stepped into the water again. Thanking Talos that she was a Nord and therefore quite resistant to natural and magical frost, she swam through the water. Whenever she needed to take a quick rest she took the chance and climbed onto one of the few ice-shelves that were floating on the surface of the sea.

The threatening howl of a pack of ice-wolves waved through the air and Mona had to shield her eyes from the snow to locate the pack. Weighing the risk, she decided to take another route. Even though these wolves were stronger and more dangerous than a normal wolf, she had no interest in killing them.

She pushed her hair back and smiled before she jumped into the water again.

* * *

**Windhelm, Palace of the Kings  
23****rd**** of Last Seed, 4E201**

Lydia paced nervously up and down along the great throne hall of the palace. Impatiently her gaze drifted to the heavy iron doors, but still there was no sign of Mona.

"She's gone for several hours already. Why didn't you let me go with her? She's my thane and my friend! I should be by her side," the young woman asked and glared angrily at Ulfric who sat on his throne, his head leaned in the palm of his hand.

"Do you plan to take the oath as well?" he asked and watched her intently.

"No, that is hers to do. I will follow her no matter which side she takes. I don't want to become part of your rebellion like she wants."

"You prefer to stay neutral, do I get this right?"

"Indeed," she huffed and turned as the heavy doors swung open. A relieved smile curled her lips as she saw Mona approaching them with a triumphant smile on her lips. Ulfric nodded quite impressed and rose from his throne.

"You made it. Not that I doubted you, but Galmar owes me a drink now," he chuckled and gestured her to follow him into the war room. Mona sent a smile at Lydia and together the two women entered the other room.

"Well, old bear, here's what you asked of me," Mona said quite amused about the face Galmar was making and handed him the teeth.

He took them wordlessly and exchanged a look with the Jarl who stood behind the massive wooden table on which was spread a huge map of Skyrim. Mona realized that was just the same map she had seen in Whiterun with both red and blue little flags pinned into it. She stepped closer to it and studied it curiously. Aware that she was being watched, she looked up at Ulfric who grinned cheekily at her.

"I've seen that one in Whiterun before. Thought it would be interesting to see if you pinned the flags at the same locations," she explained and straightened herself again.

"And what's the result? Are they at the same locations?" Ulfric asked amused and saw a twinkle in her dangerously emerald eyes.

"Indeed—except one," she replied and saw his face fall a bit and bit back a laugh as she saw him looking down at the map in utter confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked and now Galmar stepped closer as well. He didn't like it that this woman got knowledge of their camps before even taking the oath and becoming a Stormcloak officially.

Mona looked up at the tall man dressed in his bear-pelt before her gaze drifted back to Ulfric and finally she pointed at the map. "There—we took this road on our way from Whiterun to Windhelm just a few days ago and in the shadow of these rocks close to Mixwater Mill—there's a camp of Imperials. It might be important for you first strike against the Empire—"

"Ulfric, she is not one of us yet! Why do you let her speak so openly—"Galmar protested but fell silent as the Jarl lifted his hand to silence him. Mona's gaze drifted from Lydia to Galmar and back to Ulfric as he spoke,

"Galmar is right. I suggest you take your oath before we discuss further about our tactics. I am, indeed, quite curious to hear what you have on mind. Go on—I'll stand by and watch you becoming one of us."

Hearing this from out of _his_ mouth made Mona proud. She wished her father could see her now. Siding with Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the future High King of Skyrim. And she would be part of his army. Fighting for him and making it happen that he would rule her homeland one day. She nodded and turned to look at Galmar again.

"I am ready if _you_ are," she said and smiled at him full determination.

The elder man huffed. "Place your hand over your heart and speak after me. Do you understand?"

"I am blonde, not dumb," she snapped and did what he had told her.

"Fierce, huh?" Ulfric chuckled and winked at his second-in-command.

Mona ignored that and concentrated on the words Galmar spoke to her now. Each sentence seemed to seep into her very heart and soul as she repeated,

"I do swear my blood and honor to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim. As Talos is my witness, may this oath bind me to death and beyond even to my lord as to my fellow brothers and sisters in arms. All hail the Stormcloaks, the true sons and daughters of Skyrim!"

They fell silent and Mona smiled brightly as Galmar finally said, "You are now one of us. Here," he turned and picked up a pair of fur boots, a Stormcloak Cuirass, fur gauntlets and a hide helmet and handed it to her, "This is your armor now. Wear it with pride and honor to your Jarl and your fellow companions."

She nodded and thanked him. "Can I change my clothes somewhere?" she asked and cast a glance at Ulfric again. He nodded and pointed at a black iron door.

"Just go upstairs and chose one of the rooms. Most of them are unoccupied. We'll wait here for you so you can tell us more about the Imperial camp."

"Aye, captain! Jarl, I mean," she chuckled and vanished through the door. It took her several minutes until she was fully dressed in her Stormcloak armor. Though she had no interest in the helmet and left it on a table before she ran down the flight of stairs again and entered the war room once more. Lydia sat at a small round table, silently drinking a tankard of mead while the two men stood around the table and stared at the map.

"Suits you well," the Jarl said as he looked up at her. She smiled and turned around.

"I know, right?"

She stepped towards the table as well and studied the map once again. "Alright, you want to know what I think? Wait, before I tell you we should fix the map—"she picked up a little red flag and pinned it into the map at the place she had mentioned before. "Now, what I think is that you should not use this road once you start marching on Whiterun."

"Wait—who told you we would try take over Whiterun first?" Galmar asked suspiciously and watched her carefully.

Mona sighed. "You don't have to be a genius to know that, Galmar. Whiterun is the most important strategic position in Skyrim, located in the center of the country. If you control the center, it is much easier to take over all the other holds. Even an Orc would figure that out."

"Sad, but true, yes," Ulfric nodded in agreement and shifted a bit. "What is your suggestion then? If we shouldn't take that road—what way would you go?"

"The easiest would be if we take the western road through the mountains. Then turn southwards so we can position our troops around the city close to the Battle-Born Farm and also here at the Pelagia Farm. They won't see us coming until we're already knocking at their door."

The two men had to admit it was quite impressive and logical. "Well, that is indeed a plan. But before we march on Whiterun it's a long way to go. Ulfric, we _have_ to go and look for the crown,"Galmar said and Mona sensed that they had already discussed a lot about that certain matter as she saw Ulfric roll his eyes.

"Uhm—what crown?" she asked curiously.

"The Jagged Crown. A famous ancient relic of old kings and queens of Skyrim," Ulfric explained. "It's said to be lost. But Galmar said he knows where that crown lies and would like to crawl through a moldering dungeon just to prove me wrong. I, for myself, don't believe this crown still exists."

"I never heard of that crown," Mona said and turned as Lydia suddenly said quite thoughtful,

"Maw unleashing razor snow, Of dragons from the blue brought down, Births the walking winter's woe, The High King in his Jagged Crown."

They all stared at her and she looked up, aware that all eyes lay on her. "I—uhm, I have read about that in the library," she mumbled and blushed a bit.

"Bringing dragons down, huh? Well then, that sounds like a task for me. I will help you find that crown," Mona said and cast a glance at Galmar. "Let's prove him wrong," she pointed at Ulfric with a challenging twinkle in her eyes.

"Be my guest," the Jarl replied and grinned at her.

* * *

**Korvanjund  
****24****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201, 3pm**

"Ha! I knew I'd see you again! Come here," Ralof called happily and wrapped his strong arms around Mona, lifted her up and whirled around.

She giggled as he placed her down again. "It's good to see you again, my friend. So, you're here to find that crown with us?"

"Aye, though this place makes my blood freeze. That's an old Nord dungeon we're going to enter. I'm certain that place is filled with Draugrs."

"Don't worry, with me and Lydia by your side no draugr will come near you," she reassured him and introduced Lydia to him. They shook hands and finally turned their heads as Galmar came down the snowy slope towards them.

"Any news?" the burly man asked and cast a quick glance at Mona before he looked at Ralof.

"We're not the first. Imperials are already swarming around the entrance," the blonde soldier replied and anger was clearly visible on the commander's face.

"What's the legion doing here? Damn Imperial spies—Well, should be fun for us, at least. They don't seem to know we're here yet."

He turned and led his gaze back to Mona. "Ready to spill some Imperial blood for Skyrim?"

Mona unsheathed her two-handed great sword from her back and smiled devilishly. "Ready—"she breathed.

He nodded and drew his axe. The rest of the group did the same. Mona signaled Lydia to follow her. She heard Galmar calling after her, but she already reached the top of the stairs and hid behind a pillar. One by one the rest of their group appeared behind her. She could feel the death-glare of Galmar in her back, but she didn't care about him at the moment. Highly concentrated, she counted the soldiers beneath them.

"Only six outside—"she whispered and looked up at Galmar. He made a wave with his hand and the group moved down the steps, immediately recognized by their enemy. Mona had seen this coming and decided to react quickly. She jumped and landed on top of a soldier. Before he could react, she had already rammed her sword into his abdomen. Getting up on her feet again she whirled around and sliced the throat of another soldier that was just about to attack her from behind. Blood spilled on her face, like every so often in the past weeks, but she got used to this already and saw Lydia being cornered by two Imperials. She had lost her sword and pressed her back against the cold stone.

Mona growled, realized that it could be too late if she would try making her way towards her. Quickly she picked up the bow and arrows of the soldier she had just killed and nocked an arrow. Inhaling deeply, she tried to steady her slightly shaking arms. Finally she shot the arrow and hit one of them into the side of his neck. Using the short moment of confusion of the second soldier, she nocked a second arrow and let it whizz through the ice-cold air and hit him directly between his eyes.

"Bullseye," she chucked and let the bow drop again. Realizing that all Imperials were defeated, she made her way towards Lydia and the rest. "Are you all right?" Mona asked and placed her hand on her friend's back.

"I'm fine, yes. Thank you—"Lydia smiled weakly at her.

"Well done! Now we're going to enter! Stay sharp and look out. I'm certain there'll be more of them inside. No reckless moves, is that clear?" Galmar called and shot a dark look at Mona. She ignored him and together the group entered.

* * *

**Korvanjund  
****24****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201, 4pm**

After defeating more Imperial soldiers and fighting their way through the dungeons and killing a lot of draugrs, they had finally found the crown. Though the fight against King Borgas, a huge and quite strong draugr, took them longer than intended, Galmar finally picked up the Jagged Crown.

"There it is! We really proved Ulfric wrong," he chuckled and smiled at Mona for the first time since they knew each other. "You and your friend fought bravely. You seem to be real Stormcloak material, indeed."

"Such friendly words out of your mouth? I am highly surprised," Mona said amused and stepped closer to take a better look at the crown. "It looks—interesting. Are these dragon-bones?"

"They are, yes. Take it and bring it back to Windhelm," he handed her the crown. Mona took it surprised and turned it over, feeling the urge to try it on, but she decided against it. She had no interest in making the general angry again.

"You can rely on me. I'll bring it to Ulfric unharmed," she said and pushed the crown carefully into her satchel. "What about you? Won't you go back?"

"No, I'll stay for a while and take a look around. Maybe we'll find some more valuable items," Galmar said and turned away from her.

Mona and Lydia both took the flight of stairs when suddenly the blonde girl once again felt that strange kind of aura radiating around her. "Can you feel that?" she whispered and cast a glance at Lydia who simply shook her head and watched her friend in confusion.

Casting another glance around, Mona finally spotted a quite familiar black wall in the back of the room. "Stay here," she whispered to Lydia and approached the wall carefully. Just like her experience in Bleak Falls Barrow, the wall seemed to draw her closer and closer until a word began glowing bright blue.

First it was like a whisper in her head, but the closer she came to louder it got. Mona stopped and tried to read the word. Quietly she mumbled,

"Tiid."

And just like before the force of the word seeped into her body, mingled with her soul and made her understand its meaning. She smiled and whispered, "Time."

Lydia stepped closer and stared at the wall. "I have never seen it with my own eyes. I have heard of those walls, but of course it would only reveal its secrets to the Dragonborn," she looked at Mona and the two women smiled at each other.

"Come on—there's a Jarl waiting for his crown," Mona finally said and together they left the dungeon.

* * *

**A/N: It was quite fun to write this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it and stay tuned. Mona and Lydia will take the 7000 steps up the mountain in the next chapter :P**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark. ~George Iles~**_

* * *

**Windhelm, Palace of the Kings  
24****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201, 8pm**

"Do you think the Jarl knows that you are the Dragonborn?" Lydia whispered while they entered the palace after their uneventful walk back from Korvanjund.

"I don't think so. I don't care, actually. I still have to go and talk to those Greybeards. I'll just give Ulfric his crown and then we'll take a rest before we travel to Ivarstead tomorrow," Mona replied and snatched an apple from the long table in the middle of the hall.

"One may call this stealing," Ulfric said as he stepped out of the war room in just that very moment and lowered down on his throne, watching the two women approaching him.

"I call this a suitable payment for risking our lives to get you this—"Mona replied and bit from the apple while rummaging in her satchel. Finally she revealed the crown and grinned triumphantly at Ulfric.

"Damn him—the old bear was right! Did you run into any trouble?" he took the crown and examined it before he looked back at her questioningly.

Still munching her apple, Mona shrugged and swallowed before she replied, "Nothing we couldn't handle."

He chuckled and got up again. "That's the spirit. I'll get all the details from Galmar when he gets back. Now then—to know what side Jarl Balgruuf is sympathizing you should better deliver this axe to him,"he unsheathed the axe from his waist and handed it to Mona.

"If he returns it—it means we're going to march on Whiterun, am I right?" she concluded and took the axe.

"It seems you have quite a lot of knowledge about warfare," he watched her intently.

"Well, my father was a soldier—he actually fought for you once,"she replied and handed the axe to Lydia.

That caught Ulfric's attention. "He did? What's his name?"

"Lokir—he fought with you in Markath, but he was wounded and had to quit his service."

"Lokir of Falkreath? That man is your father? I am impressed and now it explains your fierce behavior," he chuckled and stepped closer. "Is he—still alive?"

"He is, yes, but my parents are in Cyrodiil now. Jarl Ulfric, I'd like to ask you a favor. There is still another business I have to attend to. Do you think it's fine if I do that first before I go and deliver that axe to Balgruuf?"

"Another business? Don't you think that can wait a while longer?" he asked thoughtfully.

"I could also ask the same—can't the war wait a bit longer?" she cocked an eyebrow and smiled sweetly at him before she added, "That was a joke, just for your info. But, seriously, that business I've to attend to might be of high importance for your cause."

"You tend to speak in riddles, young lady," he smiled but finally nodded in defeat. "Fine, do what you have to do, but don't make it longer than necessary. We can't lose much more time. Do you think you'll be able to deliver that axe within one week?"

"Possible—if you provide us with two horses," she said and tucked a strand of her gold-blonde hair behind her ear.

Ulfric shook his head in disbelief and chuckled once more. "Negotiating is definitely a strength of yours, huh? Well then, I'll give word to the stable-master to prepare two horses for tomorrow. I'd suggest the two of you take a rest. You must be quite exhausted."

"Indeed and thank you. Come on, let's go," Mona turned and signaled Lydia to follow her. Thoughtfully, the Jarl looked after them until they left through the heavy iron doors. He slumped back onto his throne and rubbed his forehead. Something about Mona was different. He could feel it and yet he was unable to find the right words.

He sighed and finally got up again. It was already late and he had a lot of things to do the next day. He left the throne hall and moved upstairs to his bed-chamber. Once his head touched the pillow, he was already deeply asleep.

* * *

**Windhelm, Candlehearth Hall  
****24****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201, 10pm**

With a content sigh, the two girls dropped onto their backs in their beds. They had rented a room in the Inn of the city and enjoyed the warmth and coziness of that place. Mona kicked her fur-boots off and lifted her feet into the air.

"It feels so good to get out of these boots for a while now," she said and turned her head to look at her friend who had crossed her arms under her head and stared up at the ceiling. "Lydia? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she turned and looked at Mona as well.

"Do you have a man by your side?"

Lydia chuckled. "No—I'm actually not interested in such matters. I am still too young to swear loyalty to a man."

"Loyalty to a man? I think I never heard a more unromantic description of love before," Mona laughed and sat up to grab her bag. She rummaged through it and pulled her journal out of it.

"How about you? Is there someone you took a shine on?"

"No, no one," Mona mumbled and opened her journal and began writing another entry. She felt Lydia's gaze on her and looked up. "What?" she asked curiously.

"No one? How about the Jarl?" a cheeky grin curled the dark-haired girl's lips.

"Ulfric? That was not a serious question, right?" Mona chuckled and shook her head. "And, just to make it clear, I like him but not like you think I do."

"I didn't mean to offend you," Lydia said amused and got up. "I'll go and get me a drink now. Do you want to join me?"

"Alright, one drink is fine, but then we should go to sleep," Mona hid her journal again and together they stepped into the taproom and ordered both a tankard of mead.

A tune rang down from the upper level of the inn and drew them upstairs. They spotted a couple of Nord men, each sitting alone in different corners of the room while a dark-elf woman stood close to the fireplace and played a beautiful melody on her harp.

The two girls lowered down in front of the fire and enjoyed their drinks when suddenly the bard stopped her song and said,

"The following song is famous far and wide and all of you might have already heard about the rumors spreading the country the past weeks. Enjoy—"

Another tune waved through the room and Mona felt a strange warmth growing inside her as the bard began to sing,

'_Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart.  
I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes.  
With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art.  
Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes._

_It's an end to the evil, of all Skyrim's foes._  
_Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes._  
_For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows._

_You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn's come.'_

The song ended and Mona cast a quick glance around the room, aware that the other Nords raised their tankards and cheered loudly. She bit back a smile and sipped from her drink as well.

"Imagine their reaction if they are aware that _you_ are the Dragonborn," Lydia whispered into her ear and they chuckled amused.

They bumped their tankards and enjoyed the rest of their drink before they finally decided to retire for the night.

* * *

**High Hrothgar  
****26****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201, 10am**

Completely exhausted, the two girls led their horses up the last couple of steps towards the temple that was rising up in front of them after their quite dangerous walk up the mountain.

"I really hope it was worth the risk to come up here," Mona grumbled and tightened the reins of her horse to a wooden post and Lydia did the same with hers.

"You are the Dragonborn, I have no doubt in that. I guess they just want to proof you are something special," she replied and took her belongings. Mona lifted a bag of supplies from the saddle of her horse. Down in Ivarstead, a tranquil town at the foot of the mountain, she had promised an elderly man to bring those supplies up to the temple and place it in a box outside. The man's name was Klimmek and she felt pity with him, for he really seemed to have the urge to climb the steps for he was doing this for several years already, but he felt old and weak and so she had promised him to do it. She spotted the box and opened it. Inside were several other items, mostly food and gold, and placed the bag into it as well.

"Alright—let's see what those Greybeards have to say," she said and together they took the flight of stairs and pushed the heavy doors open. Sudden warmth surrounded them immediately as they stepped further into the dimly lighted entry hall.

A group of elderly man, all dressed in the same grey robes and hoods over their heads, stood silently in the hall. One of them separated from the group as he saw the girl approaching. Mona's gaze drifted around the hall, fascinated by all those carvings of dragons on the walls.

"So—a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age," the monk suddenly said and Mona winced a bit. She watched him intently and nodded,

"Yes—I came because you called for me."

"We will see if you truly have the gift," he replied with a twinkle in his eyes. "Your friend can rest for a while," his gaze drifted to Lydia.

"Can't she stay and watch?" Mona asked curiously, but the monk shook his head.

"No, it would be the best if you concentrate. Therefore—follow me and I'll show you the accommodations," he signaled Lydia to follow him. Mona felt quite nervous, uncertain what would wait for her. How would they test her? Wouldn't it be enough if she shouted? She cast a glance at the other monks.

"This place is impressive," she said to one of them but he simply nodded at her. _'Strange—can't they talk?'_ she thought confused but her attention was caught again as the head of the order, at least she assumed he was, returned to the hall again.

"Well then, my name is Master Arngeir—show us, Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice. Shout at me."

"You want me to shout at you?" she asked uncertainly. "What if I hurt you?"

Arngeir chuckled quietly. "Don't worry, young one. I can handle that."

She shrugged with a smile. "Not that you shout me to death if I hurt you," she chuckled but fell silent as she saw that the joke seemed not to spark. "Alright," she shifted and put her weigh on her left leg, inhaled deeply and shouted,

"_Fus!"_

Master Arngeir stumbled backwards and Mona feared he would trip and land on his backside, but much to her relief he steadied himself again and smiled at her in awe.

"You are truly Dragonborn. Welcome to High Hrothgar! Like I already said, I am Master Arngeir and I speak for the Greybeards."

"Why are they silent?" she gestured at the other monks who stood around her and watched her curiously.

"Their voices are too powerful. They could hurt you with it."

"Ah—"she nodded understandingly. "My name is Mona—just in case you'd like to call me by my name and not Dragonborn all the time."

He seemed to ignore that statement. "Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

"Oh, well—first of all I am quite curious what it means to be a Dragonborn. Can you explain it to me?"

"We are here to guide you in that pursuit, just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you—"

"Wait, what?" she stepped closer and tilted her head a bit, a flick of her long blonde hair fell in front of her eyes. "You mean I'm not the only Dragonborn?"

"You are not the first. There have been many of the Dragon Blood since Akatosh first bestowed that gift upon mortalkind. Whether you're the only Dragonborn of this age—that is not ours to know. You are the only one that has been revealed thus far. That's all I can say."

"Oh and I thought I'm special," she said playfully dashed, but sent him a smile. "Joke aside—I answered your summoning. That's another reason why I am here today."

"We are honored to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny."

"Talking about destiny," Mona scratched her head. "What exactly _is_ my destiny?"

Arngeir surrounded her slowly. "That is for you to discover. We can show you the Way, but not your destination."

"Would be too easy, right?" she chuckled and saw his lips twitch upwards a bit. Even though she knew him for only a few minutes, but she grew to like him already. "Would you tell me more about you and this place?"

"Of course, I'm honored to answer your questions. Like you already know, we are the Greybeards. You stand in High Hrothgar, on the slopes of Kynareth's sacred mountain. Here we commune with the voice of the sky, and strive to achieve balance between our inner and outer selves."

She had to admit, all these new information made her feel important and it was as if the short woman grew a few inches. With a flash of determination, she put her hands on her hips. "I am ready to learn."

"You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen."

"What does that mean? I thought you will teach me more Shouts or something like that," she asked confused.

"Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn."

"Oh, I _am_ willing to learn and believe me—I have a lot of temperament," she chuckled and pushed her hair back.

"That may be true—and yet you still have some more things to learn. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power."

"Words of Power are those funny blue glowing words that appear on those black walls, right?"

He chuckled. "Indeed, and if you are patient now I will teach you another words which is part of _Fus_."

Mona signaled him to go on and the elder man nodded, "_Ro_ means 'Balance' in the dragon tongue. Combine it with _Fus_, which mean 'Force', to focus your Thu'um more sharply."

Suddenly another monk stepped closer and breathed, "Ro," and with a crack the ground showed a light yellow sign in front of her. Mona looked down and stepped closer to read it. Her gaze drifted to Arngeir again as he said,

"You learn a new word like a master—you truly do have the gift, but learning a Word of Power is only the first step. You must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout. Well, that is how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of _Ro—" _

Mona felt quite dizzy from all the things she learned so far and yet she turned and watched the other monk curiously. He bowed a bit and Mona felt the force and power of the word seep into her body and soul, just like the times she found the words on the walls or absorbed the dragon's soul. She closed her eyes and smiled until it ended abruptly.

"Now let's see how quickly you can master your new Thu'um," Arngeir spoke up again and she inhaled deeply once again and shouted loudly,

"_RO!"_

"Impressive, really impressive. I'd suggest we make a little break. You must be quite exhausted from the journey. Go and join your friend. We will go on with your trial in the afternoon."

She smiled brightly at them all. "Thank you! See you later," she waved at them and headed into the nearby hallway she had seen Arngeir took earlier with Lydia. She had a lot to tell and her journal was waiting for another entry as well.

'_Who knows—maybe, one day, someone will read it,' _she thought and giggled happily.


	9. Chapter 9

**High Hrothgar  
26th of Last Seed, 4E201, 3pm**

"You look refreshed, Dragonborn," Master Arngeir said as Mona stepped into the hall again in the afternoon. She smiled and stepped closer.

"I feel better now after a few hours of sleep. Can Lydia watch now? You have seen that I can concentrate. I just don't want her to sit alone in that room and do nothing but stare at the walls."

The monk watched her intently, until he nodded in defeat. He gestured her to go and get her friend. Mona squealed and left the hall again and returned with Lydia.

"Thank you. It is an honor to watch her training," Lydia bowed towards the monks and smiled at Mona.

"And that is what we are about to do now. We will go on with your training, Dragonborn. You have learned the meaning of _Fus_ and _Ro_. Now we will test your ability to use these two words combined into a Thu'um, a Shout. If you are ready, step into the middle. And you," Arngeir looked at Lydia, "step aside and remain silent."

Lydia nodded and moved aside, leaning her back against the wall. Mona stepped into the middle of the hall, while the monks stood in a semicircle in front of her.

"And what happens now?"she asked curiously and looked at Master Arngeir again. He was just about to reply as she cut him off, "I nearly forgot to say, that I don't have that much time to stay here. I—I promised someone to deliver something. It's of high importance and I said I can make it within one week, so do you think we'll be able to finish this training in that short amount of time?"

A quiet chuckle left the old monk's throat. "If you manage to keep your thoughts locked up for a little while, we might be able to finish your training today—"

"Today?" she breathed quite surprised and cast a quick glance towards Lydia.

"The first part of your training, yes. If you master Fus Ro to our satisfaction, you have to do one little test before you will learn the last word of Unrelenting Force. Can we start now?"

Mona nodded silently and gestured them to begin with whatever they had on mind for her. The monks shifted a bit and Arngeir explained calmly,

"Try to hit the targets once they appear by using your new learned Shout. Step back and focus your force."

She gestured them to start. One by one the monks stepped forward, each of them shouting and revealing a ghostly figure. Whenever one of those figures appeared in front of her, Mona inhaled deeply and shouted with all her force.

"Impressive. Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn," Arngeir turned towards her. "We will perform your next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri."

"Fresh air, that's good," Lydia mumbled while walking next to Mona. Together they left the halls of High Hrothgar and stepped out into the courtyard. Mona's gaze drifted to the strange gate just a few steps ahead, but the monks walked on into the other direction and so she unglued her eyes from that gate and stepped closer to Master Arngeir again.

"If I may say, this place is really beautiful," she said. Her breath was steaming in the cold air.

"A Dragonborn is always welcome in our halls. Now we will see how you learn a completely new Shout. Master Borri will teach you _Wuld_, which means Whirlwind."

After reading the word that appeared in front of her in the snowy ground, and absorbing the knowledge of it from Master Borri, she asked curiously,

"And what is the special power of that Shout? Whirlwind—it sounds as if I can summon a storm or something like that."

"There is a Shout that gives you that kind of power, but _Wuld_ will rush you forward and carry you with the speed of a tempest," Arngeir explained while they followed the rest of the monks towards another gate.

She chuckled and turned to look at Lydia. "That's great, don't you think? I could use it to jump over a river without getting wet," she grinned cheekily.

"Well, I hope you carry me with you then. I don't like to get wet feet," the other girl replied with a chuckle.

The sky already began to turn into a dark indigo color as Master Arngeir finally stopped the training. He had seen enough to know that Mona was exactly what every one of them expected to be—the true Dragonborn. And yet there was still one little thing to do before she could finish her trial.

"Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is—astonishing. I'd heard the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn, but to see it for myself—"Arngeir watched her quite impressed. Not only her ability impressed him. Her youth and her remarkably beauty seemed to make her appear as _the_ Nord woman. And yet, he could feel that there was a fire burning within her chest.

"Thank you, all of you," she cast a glance at all the monks and tilted her head towards them in respect before she added, "What's next?"

"You are now ready for your last trial. Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return."

"Another tomb, how exciting," she smiled brightly. "I enjoy crawling through such dungeons. Tell me, who was Jurgen Windcaller?"

"He was a great war leader of the ancient Nords, a master of the Voice, or Tongue. After the disaster at Red Mountain, where the Nord army was annihilated, he spent many years pondering in the meaning of that terrible defeat. He finally came to realize that the gods had punished the Nords for their arrogant and blasphemous misuse of the Voice. He was the first to understand that the Voice should be used solely for the glory and worship of the gods, not the glory of men. Jurgen Windcaller's mastery of the Voice eventually overcame all opposition, and the Way of the Voice was born."

"My, that's so interesting," Mona said with a twinkle in her eyes. Lydia nodded thoughtfully and shoved her friend as she said with a cheeky grin,

"And who knows? Maybe you'll have a child or two one day who want to hear all these stories."

"Before there are children, I have to find a suitable man, though I am not really looking for one. Love happens, that's what my mother told me when I was little. Looking out for a man or woman will only keep your mind away from other important things. And _we_ have a lot of things before us."

"Right you are," Lydia replied and cast an apologetic look at Master Arngeir. "I am very grateful that you allowed me to stay as well. Thank you very much. I hope we'll see each other again soon."

The monks bowed silently and Mona grabbed Lydia's hand. Together they entered the temple again and gathered their belongings. There was a lot to do. Retrieving the Horn and delivering the axe.

"What of your task do you want to do first?" Lydia asked as they stepped outside and mounted their horses.

"Even though I have promised Ulfric to deliver the axe within one week, I suggest we go and seek that Horn first. Only upon retrieving it, I will officially be the Dragonborn. I mean, I _am_ Dragonborn, but I'd like to finish that trial before starting a war."

The cold wind blew around them as they rode off, heading into the darkness of the night.

* * *

**Ustengrav  
****27****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201, 8am**

"I tell you—these dusty, creepy dungeons are way more comfortable than these marshlands out there," Mona said quietly once they stepped into the dungeon.

"I may have told you already—but you are a strange young lady," Lydia chuckled and unsheathed her sword as they heard a shuffling sound somewhere ahead of them.

"Do you hear that?" Mona whispered and cowered a bit. Carefully they sneaked down a flight of stairs and stopped behind a pillar. They frowned and exchanged a look as they watched a pair of mages fighting against a few draugrs.

"They might need our help, what do you think?" Lydia whispered and was about to get up, but Mona grabbed her wrist and pulled her down again. Silently she shook her head and peeked around the pillar again. The draugrs were dead, but the mages cursed and ran down another hallway.

"I don't think that they need or want our help. Trust me—they will attack us," she whispered and waited a couple of moments but the mages did not return. "Let's go," they left their hiding spot and headed down into the tunnel as well.

After fighting their way down along the tunnels, killing a lot of draugrs, they finally reached a room with three stones in the middle. Casting a glance around, they saw another tunnel that was locked by three metal gates.

"Do you see a lever or something?" Mona asked and began to search the walls. Lydia did the same, but they couldn't find anything. That was when Lydia stepped between the three stones. The stones began to glow red and with a creak the three gates opened.

"Run!" Mona called and they ran towards them, but before they could pass, the first gate crashed down again, blocking the way once more. Mona sighed in frustration and kicked angrily against the gate. "Stupid thing," she mumbled and turned to examine the stones. "We'll never be fast enough to get through."

Lydia chuckled. "Do you remember what Master Arngeir told you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Remain true to the Way of the Voice and you will return—"Lydia recited the monk and grinned cheekily at her friend. "Maybe you should use that Whirlwind Shout to get us through these gates."

Mona's hand slapped against her own forehead. "Of course! Oh, what would I do without you," she chuckled and gestured Lydia to come closer. "Now we can test if I can carry you with me," she said and placed her arm tightly around the other's waist, so did Lydia with her.

They took a few steps forwards until all three stones were glowing red and the gates opened. "_Wuld!"_ Mona shouted and together the girls were pushed forward to the middle of the tunnel. "Go, go, go!" the blonde girl grabbed Lydia's hand and pulled her with her and together they crashed against the wall before the third gate closed again.

"Ouh—"they groaned and patted the dust and dirt from their armor as they steadied themselves again. "We're the best team," Mona pulled the other girl closer and placed a short kiss on her cheek.

They headed further down, fought against a couple of Frostbite spiders. "I hate these creatures. Spiders are not supposed to be that big," Mona said as she pulled her sword out of the last remaining spider. Green venom dripped from the tip of her sword. She made a disgusted grimace and turned to check Lydia.

"Are you injured?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit afraid of spiders," Lydia admitted with an apologetic smile.

"Then let's hope there are not more of them around," she replied and finally they reached a wide chamber. Upon entering, the ground started shaking.

"What was that?" Lydia asked, but Mona shrugged and moved down the flight of stairs. Suddenly, out of the pools, a couple of dragonheads made of stone rose up.

"I have a feeling that the Horn is over there on the altar," Mona stepped towards the altar and checked it. "Strange—there's nothing here. Wait," she spotted a message placed on top of it. Carefully she picked the piece of parchment up and read aloud,

"Dragonborn, I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood and I'll meet you. A friend."

They exchanged a look and Mona pushed the parchment into her satchel and sheathed her sword. "That _friend_ stole the Horn, for sure. We should go and see what this is all about."

"What about Ulfric's axe?"

"The axe—I nearly forgot about that. How about you go and deliver it—and I will go to Riverwood?" Mona suggested but could tell from the look on her friend's face, that she didn't like that idea.

"I won't leave you—"

"Seriously, if someone would've told me how stressful it is to be the Dragonborn—well, alright, let us deliver the axe. Then return to Windhelm and there I can try and explain to Ulfric that I need a few days off from duty as a soldier and care about my own business. Riverwood is not that far away from Windhelm."

"Sounds good to me,"Lydia smiled.

Mona nodded, snatched the coins of gold from the altar and turned. She spotted another tunnel and together they left the tomb of Ustengrav.

"Let's see if our horses know the meaning of haste," Mona chuckled and spurred her horse with Lydia right behind, heading towards Whiterun again. And Mona knew that Jarl Balgruuf's decision would make the difference—of war and peace.

She sighed and pushed these thoughts aside. With a smile on her face she simply enjoyed the warm breeze caressing her face.


	10. Chapter 10

Rough wind howled through the narrow mountain-pass and made it hard to see anything due to the heavy snow that was blinding the two girls nearly completely. Their breaths as well as those of their horses were steaming in the piercing cold air.

"Why are we taking this route and not the way around?" Lydia called and tried to make out Mona somewhere ahead of her.

Mona slowed the pace of her horse, so they could ride side by side. "This is the safest route. There are no Imperial camps in these mountains, but one of us Stormcloaks, if I am not mistaken. There we can make a short rest to fill our stomachs and warm us up a bit. How does that sound to you?" She cast a glance at her friend and saw a weak smile on her face as Lydia nodded shortly.

It didn't take them much longer until they reached the camp. A group of six soldiers had set up tents, a travelling-forge as well as a fire in the shadows of several old pine trees. The sound of a hammer working on steel rang through the air as Mona and Lydia dismounted their horses and stepped closer towards the fire.

"Good morning, my fellow companions," one of the soldiers passed by and smiled at Mona.

"A good morning it is, indeed," Mona replied and cast a glance around the camp. "Who is in charge here?" she asked and spotted a bigger tent a bit apart from the rest.

"That's Thorygg Sun-Killer. You'll find him over there," another soldier, female this time, replied and gestured towards the bigger tent. Mona nodded and turned around to Lydia.

"You can get yourself a meal or some sleep. I'll go and have a quick talk with the commander."

She left and walked past another big tent. A quick glance made her shiver as she heard the pain-stricken groans of the wounded inside. She shook her head, telling herself that she was unable to help them curing their pain anyway and stepped into the commander's tent.

"A stranger in our camp? What do you want?" the tall, blonde Nord commander looked up from the map that was spread on a big, wooden table. His blue eyes scanned her face and made him frown. "You look familiar. Do we know each other?"

Mona lowered her face for a short moment before she looked up with her mouth curled up into a soft smile. "Well, I know you, but I highly doubt that you remember me. I was still a little child when you last came to Falkreath to have a talk with my father."

"Your father, you say? What is his name?"

She could see that she had caught his interest. She shifted closer towards the table. "Lokir from Falkreath—"

"Oh, you are Lokir's little girl. Now I remember, you were that little whirlwind that hit me with a stick while practicing sword-play," he chuckled and watched her over carefully. "Mona was your name, am I right?"

"At your service," she bowed a bit and grinned at him once she straightened herself again. "Now, my friend and I are passing through on our way to Whiterun to bring Jarl Balgruuf a message from Ulfric."

"So, you joined our rebellion. Why am I not surprised?" he grinned and spotted the axe that was sheathed at her waist. "The axe of Windhelm. It is about time that Balgruuf makes a decision."

"It is, yes. And, to be honest, I highly doubt that he will side with us. Though he made me thane of Whiterun for the services I did for him and his citizens, but he does not like me that much."

"Have you ever seen a female guard in that city of his?" Thorygg asked and stepped closer towards her as he saw her hesitating. "No, right? The only female at his side that I know is Irileth, that dark-elf commander of the guards. What does that tell you about his opinion of females in high ranked positions?"

"Interesting theory. And I thought he's just unable to handle me," she chuckled.

"That might be a reason as well. If you are still as wild like you were as a child then he might not like you that much indeed," he replied and stepped outside his tent, inhaling the fresh morning air. "You are taking that route through the mountains to reach Whiterun—why?"

She shrugged and stepped outside as well, casting a glance along the camp and further towards the horizon where a glimpse of red morning light slowly painted the sky. "I thought it is the best way to avoid getting into trouble with Imperials and bandits."

"Then you should keep in mind that you have to pass through Helgen as well. The city lies in ruins—you heard what happened there?"

She huffed and grinned at him. "I haven't just heard of it. I had the front row seats," she looked up at him and saw that he was quite surprised. "I was in Helgen that day, together with Ulfric. We were about to be beheaded on command of General Tullius himself. I have no idea why I was brought there—and it doesn't matter to me anymore. All I know is that the dragon came just in the right moment because I was already lying on the ground with the axe about to race down on my neck."

"Are you even thankful that a dragon destroyed that lovely town?"

"I didn't say that. I would like to get my hands on that dragon and kill it if I would get the chance. Though he wasn't seen since then again, so I guess he is long gone."

"What about the dragon that attacked the watchtower in Whiterun?" he turned to look at her.

"We killed him. And that was the last dragon I saw since then, so—Well, I am sorry but that is all I can tell you right now. But could you do me a favor?"

"Anything you want, my friend," he replied and gestured her to follow him into the tent again. He poured two tankards with mead and handed one to her. She sipped a bit of it and cleared her throat.

"Would you send a raven to Windhelm for me? Tell Ulfric that I am on my way to Whiterun now and that he might get his answer within the next couple of days."

Thorygg nodded and grabbed a piece of parchment and a feather and started writing down what she had said. After signing it with his name, he handed the feather to her. "You should sign it as well," he said as he saw her curious look.

Once she had signed it, he rolled it up and sealed it with wax. "The raven will be sent once you leave our camp, I promise you that. Now you should go and grab some warm stew and then you should not waste any more time. And remember what I said—you have to pass through the destroyed town of Helgen. Bandits are most likely lurking in the ruins. Be prepared to defend yourself," he patted her shoulder and pushed her gently out of the tent.

"It was a pleasure to talk with you and thank you for your help," she tilted her head in respect and went to look for Lydia. She found her sitting on a pile of firewood with a bowl of steaming stew in hand. A second bowl was placed next to her. Once she saw Mona approaching, a smile curled her lips as she said,

"I saved you some."

Mona chuckled, took the bowl and lowered down next to her. Silently they ate their meal and watched some of the soldiers slowly getting up from their bedrolls.

"We are in Falkreath Hold—"Lydia suddenly said as she had finished her bowl. Mona nodded and pushed another spoonful of stew into her mouth, thoughtfully munching on a piece of meat. Finally she replied,

"I know and everything in me yearns for visiting my hometown, but we have no time for that right now. Even though it makes me feel a bit dashed at the moment. And yet we should focus on our mission first. Once the axe is safely back in Windhelm, it might take another fortnight until Ulfric gets his troops to Whiterun. In that time we can go to Riverwood and meet that stranger who has stolen the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller and—well, we will see what will happen next."

"What did the commander say?" Lydia asked and got up to put their bowls into a sink filled with warm water nearby.

"He will send a raven to Windhelm and inform Ulfric that we are safe and on our way to Whiterun. Oh, and he warned us that there might be bandits in Helgen."

"Helgen? We have to pass through that town?" Lydia asked and felt a shiver covering her body.

Mona shrugged. "That's fine. And we handled a lot more than a bunch of bandits so far. Don't worry, everything will be fine. Whoever might try to lie a hand on us will get a taste of my Nord iron," she chuckled and pretended to swing a sword through the air.

"You're crazy," Lydia chuckled and earned a cheeky grin from her friend.

"And still you are here with me. So, what is wrong with you?" Mona replied and pinched Lydia's arm playfully. The dark-haired girl stuck her tongue out and both broke out into laughter. "Anyway, we should get moving now," she said and together they made their way to their horses again.

* * *

**Helgen  
****28****th**** of Last Seed, 10am**

Dead and silent was the air as they stopped their horses just a few feet away from the closed city gate of Helgen. No sound came from inside and Mona knew too well that this kind of silence meant nothing good. Bandits were inside for sure and she had not the intention to leave them there except in puddles of their own blood.

"How do you feel? Being here again after all this time?" Lydia asked quietly as she saw Mona staring absently at the wooden gate.

"I feel fine, I guess. The silence is heavier around here don't you think? Let's dismount and walk," she finally replied and swung down from her horse. Lydia did just the same and they led their horses closer towards the gate. "Stay sharp," Mona whispered and pushed against the wood. The gate didn't open.

"It's locked—so it's true, there are people inside and they might not want us passing through," she grumbled and rummaged in her satchel and revealed a silver lockpick. It took her only mere second until she had opened the lock. "Alright, let's go," she whispered and pushed the gate open. With a quiet creak the two doors swung inside and revealed a sight of destruction.

They stepped through the gate and cast a silent glance around. Houses burned to the ground, towers collapsed and the smell of burned flesh still hung threateningly over this place. Mona felt another strange tickling on her back, well aware that this could only be because of that certain mark the dragon had left on her all those weeks ago.

"I only heard rumors about it, but never did I imagine it to look as sad like this," Lydia mumbled and felt her heart growing heavier. "It must be hard for you," she cast a glance at Mona.

"We shouldn't linger here for too long," the blonde one replied and pulled at the reins of her horse, making it follow her. Lydia watched after her and finally followed as well.

"You picked the wrong time to come here," a deep voice suddenly growled behind them. Mona unsheathed her sword while Lydia nocked an arrow to her bow. They whirled around and saw three burly men charging at them. The horses reared up and neighed as they galloped along the cobblestone path. Mona knew they would not bold blindly and stay close by to come back upon whistling.

Steel clashed on steel as Mona deflected the blow of the man who had charged at her first while Lydia took on one of the others. "And _you_ picked the wrong girls to mess with," she growled and slashed his arm, ducked from another stroke of him and kicked his shin with full force. He stumbled and dropped on one knee. Swift like a deer, Mona whirled around and slashed his throat. But there was no time for her to catch breath as the last remaining bandit charged at her. Lydia shot an arrow which stuck into his shoulder and yet he charged towards Mona. With a dangerous twinkle in her eyes she grinned at him. "Did you ever have the wish to fly?" she called teasingly and made him hesitate and slow down for a second.

"What—?"he asked with a dump expression on his face. Another arrow pierced into his shoulder, making him groan and whirl around to charge for Lydia. Inhaling deeply and concentrating all her inner forces, Mona shouted,

"_Fus Ro!"_

The impact made him stumble and fly through the air. He crashed against a wall and sank down, his life knocked out of his body within a second.

"Impressive," Lydia chuckled and approached Mona again who whistled loudly. With a neigh the horses returned to them within several seconds.

"Imagine how this Shout might be once I learn the last word of it, making it even more powerful," Moa replied and led the horse towards the other gate which she had to lockpick once more. Upon pushing it open, she mounted her hose again and waited until Lydia was ready as well.

"I'm certain your enemies will run from you once they are aware of who you are," Lydia chuckled and pressed her heels into the horse's side. "You know what I just thought about?" she asked while they trotted down the path, leaving the dead town of Helgen behind them.

"No, what's on your mind?"

"We have to climb the seven thousand steps again once we have the Horn back. And then all the way down again," she chuckled but Mona sensed that she felt quite uncomfortable at that thought.

"You don't have to come with me if it is too much for you," she said and sent her a reassuring smile.

"How often do I have to tell you that I won't leave your side, except if I die?"

"Well then let's hope you won't die," Mona chuckled and spurred her horse.

* * *

**Whiterun, Dragonsreach  
****28th of Last Seed, 4E201, 3pm**

The warm fire in the middle of the throne hall felt quite comforting after the ride from High Hrothgar over Ustengrav and all the way to Whiterun. The heavy wooden doors closed behind them as Mona and Lydia stepped further into the hall.

"This palace is always warm and comforting, no doubt, but I prefer Windhelm a lot more," Mona said while they walked up the steps. She unsheathed Ulfric's axe and stepped closer towards the throne where Jarl Balgruuf sat silently. She could see that he watched her suspiciously and she remembered what Thorygg Sun-Killer had told her about the opinion of that Jarl towards woman in positions that were more destined for men. She grinned and tilted her head a bit towards him.

"It is you again. What can I do for you, child?"

'_Child? Watch your tongue or I shout you to the ground,'_ she thought and faked a smile as she replied, "I am here to deliver a message from Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. He asked me to deliver this axe to you."

She handed him the axe and stepped back next to Lydia again. Balgruuf seemed to be surprised. Carefully he examined the axe. "That man is persistent, I'll give him that. No wonder you decided to join him."

She chuckled. "It is always a pleasure to speak with you, Jarl Balgruuf."

"Well, I suppose it is time I give him an answer. Proventus, what do you make of all this? If Ulfric were to attack Whiterun—"he turned to look at his steward.

Mona leaned in closer to Lydia. "I bet he's refusing. He will send us back with the axe."

"You really think so? To me he looks as if he is uncertain if he should do that. No, I am sure he will keep the axe and join the rebellion," her friend replied and cast a quick glance at the Jarl who was still deep in conversation with Proventus.

Finally the Jarl turned to look at Mona again. He pushed the axe back into her hands. "You can return this axe to your friend. The esteemed Jarl of Windhelm has my answer. Make sure he gets it."

"Oh, don't worry—he _will_ get the answer," she signaled Lydia to leave. Before they walked down the flight of stairs, Mona turned around once more. "And you better tell your citizens to lock up their houses. I don't want to hurt any of them when we take over the city."

* * *

**Windhelm, Palace of the Kings  
****28****th**** of Last Seed, 4E201, 9pm**

Ulfric cocked an eyebrow while leaning over the map in the war room of the palace, as a shadow fell over the table. He looked up into that already familiar pair of emerald eyes.

"You are back, finally. A raven had arrived the previous night," he said and sighed heavily as Mona placed the axe wordlessly on the table. "Then I was wrong about him," he said and turned to cast a glance at Galmar. "You were right."

"Again?" the elder man said and crossed his arms in front of his chest which caused Mona to chuckle.

"I'm in no mood to joke," Ulfric growled and turned away from his second-in-command and watched Mona again who stood together with Lydia. "What did he say?"

"Not that much, actually. But he will send word to General Tullius and ask for reinforcements to secure the city. He knows that he cannot hold the city with just his guards. He will have the Legion with him which means we should muster all able men and women we can get."

Galmar stepped closer. "Give the word, my Lord, and Whiterun is yours."

"Whiterun is only a means to an end," Ulfric sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Tour the camps, make sure that our troops are ready once the Jarl gives his word," Mona said and earned a dark scowl from the old bear.

"Who are you to give orders here, girl?" he snarled.

She opened her mouth to snap back, but Ulfric intervened. "Stop that, both of you! We have no time for such personal discrepancies!"

"I am sorry, all I meant to say was that the sooner we are ready to attack, the lesser time the Legion will have to send the reinforcements," Mona said with an apologetic look.

Ulfric nodded understandingly and walked past her. "Is any man ever ready to give order that mean the deaths of many?"

Mona felt the sudden urge to comfort him somehow, but she had no idea what she should say. For the first time in her life she was unable to find the right words and therefore she was thankful that Galmar seemed to have found those as he replied determined,

"No, but neither is every man able to give that order when he must. But you are that man, Ulfric. You've been that man before, and you'll be him again. And these men and women—they call themselves Stormcloaks because they believe in you. They're the meanest, toughest sons of bitches Skyrim has to offer. And they want this. They want this as much as you do. Perhaps they want it more."

"Nicely said," Mona said amused. "And he is right—you have to be the man my father had told me stories about. You have to give orders like you have done in Markath. You may not be at the front this time, but we will all fight in your honor."

Still, Ulfric seemed to have doubts. "You are certain we are ready? Whiterun's army will no doubt be bolstered with Legionnares. And those walls around Whiterun are old, but they still stand."

Galmar stepped even closer. "We are ready. And I might be old myself, but I'll kick those damn walls down with my bare feet! If you would only ask me to do it."

Finally Ulfric found the guts to smile again as he patted the other man's shoulder. "And I'm sure you could do it, too. Alright. This is it."

"Yes!" Galmar and Mona said in unison.

"Send the word: A new day is dawning and the sun rises over Whiterun!" Ulfric said determined.

"Aye, and the sons of Skyrim will greet that dawn teeth and swords flashing," Galmar said and was about to leave the war room.

"Don't forget the daughters of Skyrim," Mona called after him and earned a chuckle from both Galmar and Ulfric.

"So it begins," Ulfric turned to look at the blonde girl again. "Make haste to our camp in Whiterun. I want you on the front lines. I have a feeling about you. Your place is on the battlefield. I need you there."

Mona tilted her head a bit and smiled at him. "As you command. When will you attack?"

"Within the next couple of days. Why? Do you have another detour to make?" he asked curiously and frowned as he saw the quick exchanged look between her and Lydia. "Anything I should know?" he asked and watched her intently.

"You know—that can wait a while. My detour can wait a few days more. First I'll give those Imperials another kick into their nasty faces."

Ulfric couldn't help but laugh loudly which made her smile even more. "You are just as fierce as your father had been. Only Talos might know what happens when you get children one day."

She chuckled and turned away towards the doorway leading out of the war room where Lydia was already waiting for her. "Believe me—if I ever have a daughter she will be the death of many," she winked and grinned cheekily.

"Then I'll prepare myself," he called and watched the two girl leaving before he turned to lay down for the night.


End file.
